#sorry for the sporadic posts in the last few days!

[tojisun]

sugar, spice, everything on ice (hockey au)

hockey player simon riley x f!reader’s relationship, through the eyes of the fans // sort of smau

i was listening to 5sos’ slsp while writing this so!!! sorry i went bonkers 😔 i just love this au sm

simon riley is obsessed with his girl, and it is maddeningly endearing.

of course he’s in love with you, everyone could see even from a continent away, but there is something clingy, possessive, in the way simon hovers around you. like you’d disappear right before his eyes if he wasn’t pressed close; if his tattooed arm wasn’t looped around your waist or his thick fingers were not twined with yours.

it is new, unheard of, even riley’s loyal fans says so, but it’s just so—

nice.

(the word is inadequate, they know, but there’s nothing close that could describe how heart-fluttering his devotion to you is.)

riley has always been a private person, sharing only sparse details of his life. one can even easily locate his earliest instagram post because there’s just about twenty uploads in his account since its creation—from 2017, and it’s a broken hockey stick. even that throw-away picture continues to amass likes as new fans come scouring whatever of him they can find.

his latest post was during last season’s finals’ celebrations—a series of pictures of the boys carrying the stanley cup. the first few pictures were all professionally taken, but the rest splinters into blurred shots of mactavish and garrick, particularly, drinking from the cup from inside of the locker room.

it said: thank you all.

curt, direct, but not any less meaningful.

cut to this year, mid-regular season (january), and after five months of drought, the simon riley posted a picture. and it wasn’t just any picture, but it was a hard launch of his new partner.

it was a selfie, taken by you, the camera angled just slightly. your back was pressed to his chest, and his chin was hooked to your shoulder, and, cheek-to-cheek, the two of you grin up at the camera. the background was distinctly new york, central park, so it must have been taken after the specgru’s game against the rangers (0-4 for the specgru).

for the caption, he wrote: she’s never been here before.

in an instant, all of the speculations were confirmed—the most eligible bachelor of the franchise is, finally, in an official relationship.

news articles popped up after that, speculations bloating at the shocking news. some people have even said that they’re sure they’ve seen you prior to the announcement—weren’t you that one fan simon riley was flirting with while he was on ice, mid-game?

(you were.

you were even one of the people that was tagged in johnny’s story before it got preemptively taken down; and the same person seen with the other WAGs, sprinkles of your silhouette seen on pictures like the ones that are taken on the days when the franchise flies them for game nights or the countless ones during the unveiling of the season’s WAGs jackets.

you have been a part of their circle even before the world knew who you were and, somehow, that was comforting; how simon riley had not thrown you to the wolves—or vultures, as mactavish snarled when they’ve hounded him about his fiancee’s abrupt end of her season in the FIVB, like her health wasn’t the priority over her career—and instead made sure you were surrounded by people who knew how to survive amidst the scrutiny.)

and, just like that, the dam called simon-riley’s-secret-album-of-you broke.

what had been a sporadic activity in his account exploded into series of posts, one update every week. it was a whirlwind of excitement because no one from the hockey world has ever seen this much of simon riley’s life.

he was always unapproachable, distant, like there’s always a wall between him and the rest of the world. like in exchange of being called the living legend, the guiding star, simon riley gets to shirk away from the public whenever he chooses. and who can fault him for that? riley’s career has always been heavily documented—people knew him even before he was drafted into the league, they had betted on his rookie year, and then had put him in a lonely pedestal. so of course he is fiercely protective of his privacy.

only a select few get to truly know him, only a select few have stories of simon that isn’t about the ice or hockey or his in-the-works legacy. only a select few see him beyond his crown, and now he’s giving a piece of his true self to the world because of you.

because you are worth showing off.

because life with you is worth celebrating.

.

riley41

[it’s a candid image of you standing on the balcony, wearing a too-big of a shirt that is getting ruffled by the wind and pyjama pants, and leaning over the railing as you stare at the scenery. you’re all silhouette because your body is devoured by the orange rays of the sunrise, its tendrils spilling into the wooden floors of the hotel room.]

liked by jmactavish.91, reyenzo14, and others

riley41 ibiza

.

riley41

[it’s a series. the first image is of the two of you on his motorcycle, the picture taken from simon’s bike’s camera. you’re both wearing tinted helmets and leather gears, the background a blur of colours which indicates that this was taken mid-ride. you’re gripping him tightly and your body is almost fully-covered by his bulk, leaving only the top half of your helmet to be seen peering from his shoulders.

the second image is of the beach. it’s dusk, and the sky is an explosion of pinks and purples and blues.

the third image is a selfie with your visors up. you’re looking at the camera with a shy smile, your eyes squinted because of how bright it still is, while simon only has his eyes on you.]

liked by pricejhn2, alexkeller_, and others

riley41 vroom

.

riley41

[it’s a mirror selfie of the two of you, with simon taking the photo. the background is notably his house. your back is facing the mirror, your head tilted to rest on his shoulder, while his arm is curled around your waist. you’re wearing this season’s WAG jacket—it’s black and green, their colours. the pose now makes sense because you’re showing off the back of the jacket that spells out RILEY 41 in white. simon’s wearing their away-jersey.]

liked by kylegarrick, konig_76, and others

riley41 game six let’s go

.

riley41

[it’s a video; the angle shows that it is taken by someone else. you and simon are hugging, and are swaying lightly as the two of you dance to the faint sound of music booming from somewhere behind the camera. simon’s mouthing the lyrics to your ear, his cheeks flushed like he’s buzzed from drinking, while you giggle and softly rub your palm at his back.]

liked by jmactavish.91, kylegarrick, and others

riley41 my favourite person

.

.

yourname

[it’s a candid picture you’ve taken of simon sleeping while he uses your lap as pillow. the angle captures the way your fingers are playing with his hair and scratching his scalp gently. the picture is a little blurry because there’s not enough light to properly focus the lens.]

liked by riley41, jjoanne.spam, and others

yourname im the happiest when im with him

[yourheart-inmyhands]

I got one for you. Reader with long hair. Yan zhongli, Childe and Pantalone adore brushing it out or washing it for you, putting pretty (but not pointy) decorations in it. but you HATE them touching it. So one day, maybe when they slip up and leave smth sharp in your abode you grab it and lop off as much as you can before they come back (or stop you if they’re in the room when you do it). What happens afterwards?

Cannot wait to see what you cook with this, I adore your takes.

ah tysm! sorry it took so long to get to this, i took a little bit of a different twist from my normal writing style and did some headcanons and a short blurb! hope you enjoy :D

Warning: this post contains yandere-themes, including implied being held against will, mentions of reader almost being hit, zhongli being a softie, delusional behaviors, obsessive behaviors, and other potential topics. Please read at your own risk!

Yandere!Pantalone would be furious, as someone with hair of a decent length himself, he knows the time and dedication it takes to grow it out so long.

He also knows how much maintenance it took, which is why he never fussed about helping you with it, often insisting to do it for you.

He saw it as a bonding moment between the two of you, something to help him wake up in the morning as he did your hair and something to unwind to at night as he’d undo the intricate styles he had done it up in that morning. 

You cutting off your hair with a letter opener that he’d left in the room by mistake hurts him, upsets him to the point he almost strikes you. To him it’s as if you had cut him, making a statement that you’d rather give up on something you’d dedicated years to, than to allow him the comfort and satisfaction. 

Pantalone can’t even bear to look at you for the next few days, sleeping in another room or in his office. 

“How could you do something so despicable? Do you even care how this made me feel?” The way Pantalone speaks almost makes it seem like you’d given him an impromptu haircut. With the gorgeous hair that used to reach down the length of your back now sitting in choppy piles on the floor, it almost felt like you had in a way. Your hair was uneven, lopped off sporadically in case he tried to interrupt. You’d just taken off the last few locks when he had noticed the absence of his letter-opener, intending to merely pop into your shared bedroom to grab it. Instead he was met with the grueling sight of you, kneeling before the full length mirror, hand clutching the letter opened as your opposite hand released a fist full of hair, letting it float down to the piles that had formed below.

Yandere!Zhongli would be conflicted. Part of him is upset that you’d make such a hasty decision, not even weighing the outcomes and taking away something from not just yourself but from the both of you. 

The other side of him is hurt that you didn’t come to him first. That you didn’t feel comfortable expressing your discomfort with his actions and had taken it to the extreme instead. His heart aches at both thoughts.

You’d managed to pry a sharp piece of stone off the walls of the cave, using it to hastily take off chunks, only for Zhongli to catch you mid way through. His contempt at the situation settles with a sigh as me approaches you, gently prying the rock from your hands before disappearing, leaving you to sit on the floor, half of your hair lopped off just scattered around you.

He returns a short bit later though, bringing with him a large mirror and a sharp pair of scissors. Setting the mirror in front of you, he gently begins correcting your hazardous hack job, carefully trimming off all the missed areas to even it all out.

While his work wasn’t great, it certainly looked a little better than how it had started. Your hair now sitting a few inches above your shoulder, a simple all around cut that was, mostly, even.

Zhongli didn’t say a word as he approached, looking down at you with a blank expression, his calm eyes staring deeply into your wide ones as he gently pried the rock from your hands, leaving you to wallow in a pile of your own hair as he disappears. Upon his return, he places a large, ornate mirror in front of you. It was typically kept in the living room as a decorative piece but he required it’s services here. Pulling from his pocket a pair of sharp scissors, he gently angles your head to be straight before reaching for the areas you hadn’t gotten to yet. Quickly shedding the length of those pieces he gets to work on straightening the rest out, doing an ok job at making it all match up and look decent. “If you wanted me to leave your hair alone you could’ve always asked darling, you know I only want to make you happy in this life of ours.”

Yandere!Childe manages to catch you before the act. You had thought you were sneaky, tiptoeing out of bed early in the morning over to his work clothes that had been hastily shed after his return last night.

You knew he kept a couple different blades on him, having shown you them before. Yet as you checked every pocket, every hidden loop, all the little places he’d shown you that he could be keeping them, you continued to turn up with nothing.

Over and over you checked, an almost pleading in the way your hands silently searched through the crumpled clothing, desperate to find anything even remotely sharp at this point.

You could feel the frustration as well as tears welling up in your eyes, why couldn’t anything ever go your way? First you get stuck with that crazed lunatic, and now that he’s practically taken over your hair you can’t even take some control and rid yourself of it.

As you search, you failed to hear the bed creak, or the soft patter of footsteps behind you. The only two things that tell you he’s awake are his voice whispering in his ear and his hand flaunting the exact thing you’d been looking for.

“I thought you might go looking for this, so I hid it under the pillow. A little cliche but I thought you’d be too stupid to look there, guess I was right~” Childe’s voice comes out in a sing-song tone, almost as if he was bragging about outsmarting you. He could tell from the moment he took an interest in your hair that it made you uncomfortable, just another button of yours to push as he slowly molded you into the perfect spouse for himself. His nimble fingers twirled the simple knife around, flaunting it to you. You could try to grab it, lunge for it even, but it was no use. You wouldn’t be able to get even a strand shortened before Childe would have it back in his possession, especially when the distance between the two of you was so short. Short enough that you could feel his chest pressing against your back, his breath on your neck, and his soft strands of hair brushing against the back of your head.

[sixosix]

HOLD ON TO THE MEMORIES, AND I WILL HOLD ONTO YOU | LYNEY

notes happy last chapter!! hope u enjoy<33 and tune in for another post in appreciation for the last chapter yeahhh

previous chapter | masterlist

It took two months in Sumeru, three in Liyue, and one month in Snezhnaya to take you down. Childe admitted that you held up longer than he expected—training unrelentingly in an unfamiliar environment would shake anyone’s confidence. But you’d been pushing through with excitement at the prospect of traveling to another region and training to become stronger. The adrenaline is quick to disappear when Rosalie has to go back home, and her absence makes the cold loneliness prominent.

When Childe strikes at you with a sword, your calves burn, and your thighs quiver—that split second costs you the match. Childe calls for you to get up. Fight back. But for some reason, all you can think of is how the ice has melted in your boots in a puddle and how the flowers sprinkled sporadically in the snow are the same ones back at home.

Childe senses it, the sudden drop of mood. He studies whatever expression you’re making and smiles.

“Alright. I think it’s about time.”

“I’m sorry.”

Childe pulls you up and throws your arm over his shoulder. “What’re you sorry for?”

You take one heavy step at a time, watching and hating as your feet sink into the soft snow. It’s too cold. “You’re doing so much for me, but I’m too weak to follow through.”

“Nonsense.” He clicks his tongue. “I think of this as one of my duties.”

“But it’s not one of your duties,” you argue weakly. “I’m a burden to your actual duties. My colleagues are already suspicious of this special treatment.”

“They aren’t really your colleagues,” Childe points out. “Just as you aren’t actually working under me. You’re my mentee. There’s a world of difference.”

You sigh, unconvinced. Childe is doing so much to prevent the other Harbingers and even the Tsaritsa herself from snooping in your business. A part of you thinks the Tsaritsa already knows, but it’s about time she does something about it, right?

“You’re thinking too hard,” Childe remarks. When you turn to him, he’s staring ahead. “Don’t worry, okay? You’ve got three Harbingers vouching for you.”

“Three?”

Childe grins. “That boyfriend of yours is about to be one, isn’t he?”

Excitement thrums in each bone of your body as the familiar view of the continent-sized fountain comes to view. You nearly fall over into the ocean from tipping forward.

“Fontaine’s not going anywhere,” Childe yells out from the other side of the Fatui-issued ship.

The wind whips through your hair. The recognizable scent of the sea breeze makes you laugh in delight. Maybe you missed your home more than you realized. 

“I wouldn’t let it, anyway,” you answer back.

Once the ship has reached the dock, you bound over to Childe, who looks over curiously.

“Thank you,” you say, and you really, really mean it. For the past few months, for this and possibly for more in the future.

Childe ruffles your hair. It would’ve made you glare at him on usual days, but you’re bursting with happiness so you let him until he says, “No problem, Y/N. We’re friends now.”

Childe nudges you forward. “Now, go hurry. I’m about one messenger bird away from losing my patience with Lyney.”

Despite that, you meet with Rosalie first.

The sun has barely risen, just peeking from rolling hills. The shop is still closed. But this is your home, so you push the key in, pull the door open, and catch sight of Rosalie fixing the displays on the shelf behind the counter.

“Maman, why are you up so early?”

Rosalie’s head whips around, then her limbs lock up in place. She’d been with you for the first two weeks of Sumeru, admiring their flora, then taking a lot of them home. You see them displayed on the shelves next to your first flower—the ones that are certainly for sale. Rosalie still hasn’t moved, frozen, gaping at you.

“Surprise,” you say, then she boots back to life and runs over to hug you.

“Oh, my darling,” Rosalie says reverently, as if speaking to the gods, thanking them. Her hands are stained with soil dirt and the smell of leaves, but you find that there is nothing else more fitting. You really are home. “Ma bébé! You’re back!”

You pluck a few petals off of her hair. “I am.”

Rosalie pulls back and grins up at you. “You’re home! You’re—” her face twists in realization, “Oh, you’re back. Oh, dear. You just missed Lyney. He came over earlier to help me settle everything before I opened up.”

“Wait, really?”

Rosalie nods, ushering you inside the counter, where the door leads to upstairs to the kitchen. “Yes, yes. Since I returned, Lyney has been coming over to visit and help me with the shop.”

Your heart skips a beat. “He does?”

“Mhm. At first, I assumed it was because he got used to visiting you, but he just does it every day now. ” Rosalie shakes her head fondly, smoothing down your hair. “That boy. I tell him that he should focus when he has shows to practice or prepare for, but he just buries his hands in the dirt as an answer.”

“I see you two have gotten closer while I was away.” The image of Lyney changing pots, getting his hands soiled, while he insists that Rosalie does the watering, makes you unbelievably fond.

“As stubborn as you,” Rosalie chides, smiling. “He knows how to handle them, though. Did you know, Lyney started to send out messenger birds when I told him I was missing you? That boy is more than head over heels, darling.”

“Maman,” you say, embarrassed. “I just came back. Aren’t you going to ask how I am?”

“I don’t need to. Lyney updates me anyway,” Rosalie says. “But I have missed you, so tell your maman about everything, okay?”

“I’ll tell you stories for as long as you want me to, maman.”

Rosalie’s eyes water, but she braves through it as she stares wordlessly at you. She wipes it off, then ruffles your hair. Do you have a sign on your head or something? 

“I’m proud to call you my daughter. I’ll always want you to.”

Freminet is the first out of the siblings to hear from you. It’s not on purpose. You’re on your way to surprise Lyney and Lynette when you hear a soft voice call out after you. Your head snaps side to side, frantically looking for the source, then grin wide when Freminet waves at you feverishly.

“Y/N!” he exclaims breathlessly.

“Freminet!” you yell back, falling towards a hug that he tightly reciprocates. 

“I didn’t know you were back?” He says incredulously, which might just be the most passionate emotion you’ve ever felt from him. He looks torn between disbelief and joy.

“Just this morning. I wanted to surprise all of you.” To gain a sense of satisfaction, you bury your hand in his hair first, knocking his beret aside when you ruffle and mess with his hair. “Your hair’s gotten longer than usual.”

“Yeah. You missed too much,” Freminet mumbles. But he doesn’t look depressed about it. He beams up at you, reminding you of a particularly pleased puppy.  “You have a lot to catch up on.”

“I know, I know.”

“But wait.” Freminet’s brows scrunch together. “How long are you allowed to stay here?”

“Two weeks, at most. But I can always come back whenever I want.”

Freminet laughs. “Are you going to max out your two weeks before you talk to Lyney?”

“Shut up.” You elbow his ribs, but Freminet just laughs harder. “I was on my way to your house before I saw you.”

Freminet hums thoughtfully, his gaze drifting off to somewhere far. “I don’t think Lyney’s home right now.”

“Really?” You follow his gaze, but see nothing. Only kids running around, throwing cards around and sounding explosions with their mouths. You smile. Were they imitating Lyney? It seems that even if you try to avoid him, you’ll find traces of his footsteps anywhere. “Huh. Where could he be then?”

“Ever since you left, Lyney goes to this one spot a lot,” Freminet says, turning back to you with a knowing glint in his eye.

“Ma mère’s shop?”

“No, no. A different one. He says you two sparred there, and he goes there when he misses you. He goes every day.”

Rosalie, then now Freminet… You feel giddy, fondness bursting in your chest at the thought of Lyney missing you as much as you missed him. Not that you’d admit it to him straight up—because then he’d never let it go. But even then, the thought of that has you smiling to yourself like a madman.

Freminet notices it, too. “I’ll tell Lynette you said hi.”

True to his word, you find Lyney in the same spot he asked you to spar with him after years without it. You face his back, but you keep your steps light and measured, moving closer and closer until you see that he’s picking flowers. For his show, maybe?

Lyney looks vulnerable, hunched over a patch of flowers and gently unrooting them from the grass.

You spread your palm and let ice materialize above it in the shape of a heart. It’s smooth and clean after months and months of perfecting it. Then you throw it towards him. You have exceptional aim—you barely miss his ear on purpose. But Lyney straightens up in a snap and catches the heart with a gloved hand.

He looks at the heart in confusion, then rapidly whips around to you.

You grin and wave, unsure of what to say. What do you even greet him with? It’s nice to see you again? I missed you?

You haven’t had much time to think about it as Lyney sprints to you and tackles you down into a hug, blowing the air out of your chest as you both fall on the grass. You laugh as Lyney rubs his head on your neck like those affectionate cats back at Sumeru, his arm wrapped tightly around your shoulder.

Lyney pulls away, pupils blown wide.

“Hi,” he breathes out.

“Hi,” you whisper in return. Maybe the right thing to say is, “Lyney.”

“You’re back. You—you’re back in Fontaine—you made me a heart!”

“I did,” you say shyly. “I’m home.”

Sumeru had been wonderful; with trees that stretched and went on for forever, dewy grass that tickled your calves, and the heat of the sand that you longed for when you reached Snezhnaya. Liyue had been beautiful; spread with the aroma of spices and the orange glow of their sunset, then the mountains that allowed you to soar from one to another. Snezhnaya had been enchanting; the view of their sky was unmatched, the flowers that were unique to the cold climate were beautiful, their snow sent you a thrill that you knew you couldn’t feel anywhere else, and you were able to refine your Vision in the place where it belonged.

But the warmth that Lyney emanated—that he gave you—was the kind you missed in every place you went to. This is where you belong.

thank you so much for reading. i'll save all the things i want to say in the next post, so please, tune in!

[kaleidohscopic]

SWEET — BBH

PAIRING: baekhyun x female reader SUMMARY: it's one thing to run into the guy you maybe, used to have a little bit of a thing for at your mutual friends' birthday party. it's another thing to find out he maybe, used to have a little bit of a thing for you too. GENRE: friends (ish) to lovers! au, romance, a hint of smut, some pining if you squint WARNINGS: swearing, alcohol consumption, jenkai (humour me), wayyyy too much sexual tension, it gets a little hot and heavy towards the end but nothing super explicit (bc idk how to write that stuff sorry!), general mature content and themes WORD COUNT: 4.4k NOTE: super self-indulgent w barely any plot or characterisation (basically four thousand something words of foreplay lol), i saw that video of baek at one of the lonsdaleite stops unbuttoning his shirt and it drove me a little loopy ngl...

The last time you had seen Byun Baekhyun was two years ago.

Graduation. Gowns. Bouquets. There was probably a photo of the two of you, along with the rest of your cohort, sitting around somewhere in the depths of your camera roll, fresh-faced and eager to take on the exciting new world outside of 3000-word essays and 9 am tutorials. Four years taking variations of the same courses and bitching about the same tutors meant you were far from strangers, but sadly, the friendship had dwindled once you’d left the classrooms for good — something you had been just a little gutted about. These days, his appearances in your life were rare, save for the times he’d come up in conversation with the friends you both shared back in the day, or his sporadic likes on your instagram posts.

Except now, of course, as you watched him climb up the stairs to the rooftop bar, gift bag in one hand and suit jacket in the other.

“Happy birthday!” he beamed, enveloping your best friend in a hug. The fabric of his shirt strained against the movement of his arms, and you caught a whiff of his delicious woody cologne as he approached. 

You had known there’d be a possibility he’d show up today. This year, Jennie had made the enlightened decision to throw a joint celebration with her boyfriend, and obviously that entailed inviting all of his friends — which honestly, wasn’t even that many extra heads since Jongin only ever spoke to the same eight people. You’d seen Baekhyun’s name on the guest list that you had helped her put together, and seen it again listed under the ‘going’ tab of the event, but having the real deal in front of you was another experience entirely.

Crisp white button down with the sleeves rolled up, fitted slacks, and just a glimpse of his toned chest peeking out from where the top few of his shirt buttons were undone.

He looked fucking good. 

Even better than he did two years ago.

Jennie squeezed him back with just as much fervour. “So glad you could make it! Jongin’s been stuck to my side all night with no one to talk to, he’s going to be so happy you’re here.”

He pulled back with a chuckle, and it was then that he finally laid eyes on you, seated next to the birthday girl, holding matching martinis, and doing your best not to look like you had been shamelessly checking him out for the entire 45 seconds since he had arrived. His eyes widened slightly with recognition as your name left his mouth.

“You haven’t forgotten each other, right?” Jennie laughed. The descent of his eyes down the length of you was quick, but not careless, and heat flared in your body all the same. When his gaze returned back to your face, the beginnings of an appreciative smile were shaping the curve of his mouth.

“Not yet, I hope,” he answered her, but his eyes were still on you. “Nice seeing you again. You look good.”

“So do you, Baekhyun,” you replied, because it was the truth. His smile only grew. 

Jennie tipped back the rest of her martini and bade the both of you a hasty farewell, saying something about fixing up the photo zone as she hurried towards the other end of the rooftop. A few of the girls, too excited about the open bar, had knocked the cushions onto the ground, and were doing a poor job of rearranging them back on the wooden swing.

He slid into her now-vacant seat, elbows resting on the bar counter, giving you an excellent view of the shape of his forearms and the veins that adorned it. 

“You’re not going to have that?” he asked, nodding at the sad little olive that sat all alone at the bottom of your empty glass. 

“Not a fan of the saltiness,” you answered, and offered it to him. You watched as he plucked the garnish stick out of your fingers and put the olive in his mouth with no hesitation, eyes lingering a little too long on the movement of his throat as he swallowed it. “I like sweet things better.”

“Yeah, I remember,” he chuckled. “You used to only ever drink vodka cranberries.”

Suddenly, you were twenty-one again, peering through the cafe window and getting a little too giddy at the thought of meeting up outside of the stuffy tutorial classroom to work on the project you had both been assigned to. You’d be lying through your teeth if you said that a crush on Baekhyun was something you never entertained throughout your four years of university together. And maybe it had been reciprocated, for the briefest of times, just after that joint presentation on data structures, where the thought of stepping over from friendly more-than-acquaintances into something more had crossed your mind enough times for you to lose count. There had been something there, or at the very least a hint of something, in the nights spent crammed into a tiny library booth meant only for one person, poring over stale and tedious papers on algorithm organisations in each other’s company.

But nothing had happened. He hadn’t made a move, and neither had you, laden with the fear of rejection that was so indicative of youth. And maybe that had been a huge misplay on your part, because a few weeks after wrapping up the project that had brought you together, he was at your faculty’s monthly pub crawl, introducing you to his new girlfriend, who had actually asked him out just the day before. 

Safe to say that had been the end of that. You were not the type to homewreck.

“How long has it been? I feel like I haven’t seen you since — god, it must have been graduation?” 

“Something like that,” you replied through a smile. “I still have the photos on my phone.”

“So do I,” he said, flashing you a boyish grin. Then, as if doubting the accuracy of his own words, he promptly pulled out his phone and began scrolling towards the top, brows furrowed with determination. It was a few seconds later that he found what he was looking for, turning the screen towards you with a triumphant noise. 

The picture had been taken outside the ceremony hall, set against the familiar sea of graduation gowns, but that was the only familiar thing about it. In the foreground stood just you and Baekhyun, not stiffly posing for the camera as you had been in all of the group shots that existed on your phone, but turned towards each other, faces bursting with elated smiles. Neither of you looked to be aware that there was even a camera on you. The you in the photo had your mouth half open in the tell-tale way it always did when you were about to laugh at the ridiculously corny jokes he loved to crack. His eyes were crinkled at the corners, partially from the glare of the sun overhead — the weather had been phenomenal for the usual gloominess of May — and partially in delight at your reaction, having cracked said joke. 

“I’ve never seen this one before. Did you forget to Airdrop this to me on the day?” you asked, a joking accusation colouring your voice. 

“My mum only sent it to me a whole month later. I didn’t even know she had taken these,” he said, zooming in to better see the expressions on your upturned faces. “We look so happy here,” he added, voice tinged with a hint of nostalgia.

“And young,” you agreed, but not without a sigh. The you of two years ago had yet to know the pains of having seven different bills to pay every month, and watching the money trickle out of your bank account like water from a leaking tap.

He gave you a gentle, teasing nudge with his elbow. “We’re not that old now. We could definitely still pass as twenty somethings.”

“That’s probably because we are still actually twenty somethings,” you countered with a laugh. 

There was an unprecedented ease with which you fell into conversation with Baekhyun. Despite the considerable gap of silence between now and the last time you had seen him, there was nothing in his demeanour or your own that indicated just how much time had passed. It was rather comforting to see a face from your university days, and even better that that face was still as gorgeous as ever.

You watched as he flicked through a few more photos from the day, mostly of him and his friends from university — one of whom was the other main event of tonight — until he landed on a picture of him with his girlfriend. You recognised the photo, seeing as you had been the one who offered to take it. He had an arm around her waist while she carried a huge bouquet with a teddy bear sitting atop the arrangement.

“Didn’t I help you order that thing?” you asked, pointing to the flowers in her hand. He hummed in agreement, but didn’t say much else, scrolling through to the next photos with his parents, which had also been taken by you. They stood on either side of him, beaming with pride, and then there were a few after that with his girlfriend as well, the four of them all standing together and looking picture-perfect. 

Perhaps the you of today would have chosen differently, found the balls to ask him out first — because what was the use in sitting and waiting around for the guy to make the first move? — and maybe you’d be the one in the photo instead, smiling up at the camera, an integral part of the family portrait. Maybe he’d be running his fingers across the inner curve of your wrist, instead of along the rim of the gin and tonic he had just ordered.

“She couldn’t make it today? Or was she not invited?” you asked, having not seen anyone walk in behind him. Although you hadn’t been paying much attention to anything else since he arrived, and if she had been here, you doubted she’d be all too pleased with how close your heads were, even if he was just showing you through his camera roll. With that in mind, you drew back slightly, just enough to catch the expression on his face twisted with an odd sort of surprise.

After a second or so, it melted into an easy-going grin.

“We broke up a while ago. A month or two after graduation, actually.”

Oh.

You and your big mouth.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know — I shouldn’t have —”

“Don’t be, it’s fine,” he reassured, waving off your clumsy apologies. “Things just didn’t work out and we weren’t right for each other. It was a pretty amicable break, all things considered. But now, I get to sleep however I want in my own bed, so I really can’t complain,” he added, fishing another laugh out of you.

“Nothing beats starfishing in your sleep after a long day,” you hummed in agreement. Wednesday nights in your bedroom after a full day of client meetings could attest to that.  

Baekhyun took a slow sip, pulling the drink into his mouth with a contemplative carefulness, and weighed up his words before he spoke again. 

“What about you? Still with Jinyoung?” he asked, tone light and regarding you with curious eyes. Without meaning to, you let out a groan, and his left eyebrow quirked with interest. 

“Don’t even go there,” you half-grimaced, reminded of the fling you had towards the end of fourth year with the business major. He was pretty, and had been nice enough, but by the fifth time he blew off spending time with you so that he could track the world stock indexes, it had become pretty clear that the two of you were on different paths in life. The sex was okay, but it had not been enough to warrant any more than a few late night rendezvous. For all you knew, he was probably now a very successful investment banker with 90 hour work weeks and making a shit-load of money you could only dream about having. 

You sighed, drumming your fingers against the counter. “Let’s just say, he was more interested in looking at his dividend yields than he was in me.”

Baekhyun’s gaze flickered over the rest of you again, taking in the ridges of your collarbone and the soft curve of your waist, the touch of his eyes hovering above your skin like a tangible thing. You tried your best to look unaffected, forcing yourself to remain still under the weight of his stare despite the way it was melting you down to your bones.

“He definitely did not have his priorities in order,” he said, once his eyes ended their journey and returned back to your face. “You’re much nicer to look at.”

His words settled beneath your skin, pulling a sweet warmth to your cheeks that slowly radiated through the rest of your body. You watched as his mouth curved around the rim of his glass again, and followed the path of the drink down the length of his throat. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were flirting with me.”

He rewarded you with a sly smile. 

“Then maybe you don’t know any better.”

Christ. Those were definitely bedroom eyes.

Your lips parted again, though you had little idea as to the words which were preparing to come out of them. Forming coherent and decent thoughts proved to be a great struggle when he looked like he was undressing you with his eyes. His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, and you swore you could have crumpled right then and there if it hadn’t been for the bar stool underneath you. 

“Baekhyun, you’re finally here,” said a giggly Jongin, suddenly appearing between the two of you with Jennie in tow.

The tension from seconds earlier dissipated as quickly as it had formed. 

Someone (the birthday boy) had evidently made good use of the open bar to shed the self-imposed shell that came with introversion before the arrival of his friend. “I’m so, so happy to see you. We need to do some shots right now,” he said, now all serious, leaning over to peer at the drinks menu that he himself had signed off on. 

Baekhyun was the first to break eye contact, turning to flash Jongin a fond smile. “Sounds like the best idea you’ve ever had,” he said, before downing the rest of his gin and tonic. 

The birthday girl requested tequila shots, and the bartender was quick to supply, lining up four glasses and filling them with the clear alcohol that was a recurring character in all your worst hangover episodes. You passed them around, but not before turning back around to the bar for one more thing. 

“And a vodka cranberry, please,” you added, catching the amused smile Baekhyun threw your way. 

“For old time’s sake.”

It was approaching the early hours of the morning when the remainder of the party retired to the hotel suite Jennie had booked for the night. One of her chill, moody, late-night R&B playlists had been queued up and was playing softly on the speaker system in the living room — she had a playlist for every conceivable mood and situation — and you could just make out the melody of a Daniel Caesar song, quiet and soothing against the nighttime.

“Okay, you win,” Baekhyun conceded with amusement, sitting up to grab the soju bottle from your outstretched hand. “I’ve never had someone throw up on me, at least not on the first date.” He settled back against the pillows, bringing the bottle to his lips to take a small, slow sip. 

“Thanks, but it’s a victory I’d rather not have. There’s no pride in knowing I’m the only person I know to have a guy spew all over my shoes within ten minutes of meeting me,” you said, leaning back and letting your hands sink into the plush comforter. 

Some thirty or so minutes ago, you had found yourself in one of the smaller rooms of the suite, sitting across from Baekhyun with nothing but a few inches of egyptian cotton separating you. All night, you had felt his presence, whether it was the light brush of his warm fingers across the bare skin of your shoulder to grab your attention, or the weight of his stare from across the rooftop bar while you posed for pictures with Jennie and the rest of the girls. He had infiltrated your senses, occupying his own little space in the corner of your consciousness. Right now, having the whole of him so unobstructed before you, being the sole focus of his attention within the four walls of this small room — it was obvious that the alcohol wasn’t the only thing bringing a heady warmth to your face.

He levelled you with a careful look, and instead of handing the bottle back to you as he had done for the last thirty minutes, he set it onto the nightstand beside the bed with a soft clink. You raised a quizzical eyebrow at him.

“I think you should probably slow down,” he said, catching the curious tilt of your head. “Wouldn’t want you to do something you regret.”

You let a coy smile turn the corners of your mouth upward, shifting your weight off your hands and leaning towards him ever so slightly. “Trust me, I know my limits,” you said, and moved to grab the bottle. 

The hand you placed on the top of his thigh to steady yourself as you reached over him was deliberate, and you failed to hide the deepening of your smile when you felt the muscles flex beneath your fingers. You also didn’t miss the dip of his eyes below the neckline of your dress as you hovered over him, only pulling back once the cool glass of the bottleneck was firmly in your grasp. The glimmer in his eyes, previously light and boyish, had darkened imperceptibly.

You were playing a dangerous game, and you both knew it.

Beyond the door, Jennie’s playlist had changed to something a little more sultry, Kehlani’s honeyed voice now floating among the sounds of the city from below. His gaze remained on you as you raised the bottle to your lips, tilting it back and letting the tartness of the grape soju fill your mouth. 

The song wasn’t the only thing that had changed. There was a palpable shift in the room, a simmering heat gradually seeping into the atmosphere, brought on by your brazen touch. Still, he kept a safe distance, giving you the reins and the freedom to dispel the tension you had created. 

Which you had absolutely no intention to. 

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, relishing in the way his eyes immediately left yours to track the movement. “You know,” you began, turning the bottle over in your hands, “I used to have a bit of a thing for you.”

His eyebrows raised with interest, but there was also a hint of surprise layered beneath.

“Third year, that data algorithms project. I thought a lot about asking you out, actually,” you continued, watching as his face slowly took on a smile at your words. A soft laugh escaped those pretty lips, as if he was enjoying some private joke that you weren’t in on. Without meaning to, you leaned in, drawn to the sound, wanting to understand the amusement behind it. 

“You wanna know something?” he asked, to which you weren’t sure if you had actually nodded, or if you had only imagined that you did, too preoccupied by the inviting curve of his mouth.

He was all too willing to comply with the unspoken request behind your curious eyes, moving forward at a languid pace, until his lips hovered just over the shell of your ear, not quite touching, but close enough that you could feel the fluttering pull of air with each of his inhales and exhales. You could smell him too, his cologne now infused with the scent of his skin over the course of the evening, smooth and sweet, and much too dizzying. 

His cheek brushed yours for a fraction of a second before you registered the conspiratorial whisper in your ear.

“So did I.”

You hadn’t even realised your own eyes had closed until they were fluttering open with his departure from your space. He pulled back, eyes gleaming with a furtive satisfaction like he had just let you in on some big, juicy, forbidden secret. It took a while for your chest to start pulling oxygen back into your lungs again. How he could render you so breathless when he had barely even touched you — you would’ve been embarrassed if not for the foggy warmth circling your head and radiating throughout the rest of your body, leaving you oblivious to everything but the sheer force of how much you wanted him.

He reached for the bottle, now almost empty, and you fought the flinch when you felt his fingers close around your hand. This time, you didn’t complain when he removed it from your grasp and set it back on the nightstand. The warmth of his hand did not leave yours, flipping it over to trail his fingers lightly across your knuckles. 

“These are pretty,” he murmured, thumbing at the rings decorating your fingers. You could only manage a noncommittal hum in response. His touch had stolen your voice right out of your chest, along with all the rationality usually contained inside your mind, leaving you with nothing but the feeling of your own blood thrumming in your veins, hot and fast beneath your skin. 

All night, you had danced around each other, stealing furtive glances and exchanging flirty smiles, carefully toeing around the edge of politeness and propriety. And maybe Baekhyun was just too polite, too respectful, letting you take the wheel and steer tonight in whichever direction you wanted, despite the want that was so clearly etched on his face. 

Surely, your face was a mirror of his own. Surely, he could tell.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he asked, looking up at you with heavy-lidded eyes, unfurling your fingers to lace his own through them. The press of his warm skin against yours had you light-headed and almost delirious, but you forced your gaze to stay steady on him while you tried to find your voice again.

“I’m thinking,” you began, low and breathy, “about how you’ve been eye-fucking me this whole night.” 

His sharp inhale was unmistakable above the quiet of the room. A meteor could have landed right outside the building and you wouldn’t even have noticed, held captive by his dangerous touch and the hunger flaring in his eyes. 

“And,” you continued, “how I’ve been waiting for you to do something about it ever since you shut that door.”

The second after the words left your mouth seemed to stretch across an eternity. You watched as he registered them, transfixed by how his whole body seemed to cloud over with desire, pushing out any remaining trace of restraint.

One moment you were sitting on the bed, revelling in the delicious tension you had created, and the next he had pulled you flush against him. His mouth was on yours, hot and needy, the self-control he had been so meticulously keeping to for the entire night disappearing the instant he felt your lips move against his own. You were no better, hands leaving his to fist desperately at the fabric of his shirt. An airy moan left your throat when his tongue brushed against yours, letting you taste the sweetness you had been imagining ever since you laid eyes on him on the rooftop. He swallowed the sound, the plump flesh of his bottom lip tightening into a pleased smile at your reaction.

Baekhyun pulled away first, lips leaving yours to trail across your cheek and down the side of your neck, where you felt the light graze of his teeth over the skin, and then the wetness of his tongue following the same path. His hands had snaked around you, fingers digging into the curve of your waist, keeping you in place while he nipped at you, drawing stilted gasps out of your parted mouth. When he pulled the flesh into the warmth of his mouth and sucked it to a nice, dark bruise, the heat coiling in the pit of your stomach flared, violent and hungry. 

You were going to lose your mind.

“You know, you could just try again,” you managed to get out between heaving breaths. “Ask me out.”

“Would you say yes?” he asked, and you felt his lips shape the words against your skin. They dragged back up the column of your throat, capturing your mouth again with another heated kiss that had your head spinning. He shifted, and your knees came to rest on either side of his leg, the firm muscles of his thigh pressing against the part of you that ached for his touch. In the haze of this moment, you didn’t know much, but you knew you would’ve said yes to absolutely anything to come out of that sweet, tempting mouth. 

Still, you played along, letting a devious smile pull the corners of your mouth upwards. “That depends on how tonight goes.”

He drew back slightly, fixing you with a wicked look that held promises he was nothing short of determined to fulfil. You could see yourself reflected in the darkness of his blown-out pupils, flushed and already wrecked just from the attention of his mouth. Anticipation and thrill jolted through you like lightning, zipping through every cell in your body as your mind drifted to what he might have in store behind those enticing eyes. 

You weren’t left wondering for long. His hands left your waist and moved to your calf, pushing up the silken fabric of your dress as they slowly crept upwards, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. The brush of his fingers against your inner thigh drew another shuddering breath out of you. 

His next words were not unlike an oath.

“Then I’d better make tonight fucking spectacular.”

[plasticfangtastic]

Dairy Girl-- Part 3

A Homelander x F!Reader fic

A/N: 1more part to go, I've be going on a 4 day trip on wed so I should post the final part next wk, thanks everybody for reading here is part 2 (there's a link for part 1 there)

Synopsis: In order to provide a constant supply of fresh breastmilk for Vought’s number one hero, Vought has had to get quite nifty in order to prevent this secret desire out the press and the public– you have unfortunately discovered the truth.

tags: child death mention, depressive, dark, kidnapping, stocklhom syndrome, HL tw.

word count: 4.4K

Part 3-- Fields

Months.

You’ve been here for months.

You aren’t quite certain of the timeframe but you kept track of the full moon, how often things faded and re-emerged, you’re sure half a year of your life has vanished slower than ever before, for weeks you find yourself holding on, now you aren’t sure why? This body of yours grows heavier around his arms as you sat there in that massive corner booth listening, as he squeezed your jacket as if to remind you he had a hold on you… or to make sure you were okay, you hoped.

Several months have passed and you can’t help but wonder how you ended up in this Chinese restaurant having dinner with your captor.

Homelander’s visitation continued to be more sporadic, your time seems of less importance these days, you find yourself painfully alone, no matter how pretty the tapestry, how interesting the films have become, how delicious the food is or how the forced expansion of your music taste as they feed you an eclectic collection from japanese city pop to medieval folk rock albums changed the fact that you were alone. It had been endless weeks since you last saw a human being beside Homelander.

You stared at that steel door, its presence tempting you, mocking you, insulting you.

You pressed aimlessly at the panel hoping it would break or force somebody to emerge to tell you off– just the sound of a live human would be enough to fill this emptiness inside you even if it was for a short burst. The library elevator had been locked and no amount of pulling would get it to break, your voice, your sole company, birds would come and sing ‘hello’ but as pretty as they were they flew away at the sight of you.

Everything was perpetually quiet.

At least when the sun still lingered.

At night you couldn’t even sleep this awfulness off, your brain trapped you in a different nightmare.

The only time when this house wasn’t submerged in silence was in your slumber.

Ghost lived here you’ve come to accept.

“Every night I have the same nightmares” you spoke to a squirrel one morning

Cries of a baby you can never find, as you wake up, dazed and exhausted you hear the faintest cry and all your mind has tried to do these past few weeks and months have been to move on but ghostly cries forever remind you of the emptiness left in your arms, ghost hoping to crush everything within you, but when the sun is out you tell yourself that your baby boy is gone, you accept it. 

Every night before bed you recite a fresh mantra ‘you’re okay now, that in the future perhaps you could finally become a mother, that the embers still burn inside you, your love is there but is not wrong to move on’ but your nightmares won’t let you move on from a pain you couldn’t forget.

You pray to whatever god you believed, or used to believe for dreamless slumber, each night the thought of sleep frightens you, making you wish for death for it was kinder.

The only peaceful slumber comes with a blond catch.

In your arms he’s both small and larger than life, light and heavy, his lips pursed on your sensitive skin, his quiet moans and mewls send shivers down your spine yet bring you an animalistic primal comfort that tap in a primitive part of your motherly brain, his scent fades and returns the next time reeking of oatmeal and chamomile, as your nose sinks on his hair and he wraps his naked hand around your waist itching to crawl higher, to hold your breast much like a real baby would you forget he is grown, picking his fingers and letting them hang on your own, in this times were you drift away from boredom– you sleep peacefully. Wondering if there was safety in this? The world’s most powerful man held against your bosom, nothing could hurt you here– not even the nightmares. Afraid of him you supposed.

Homelander looks up with glassed eyes, licking his lips as he pops your nipple out his mouth, blissed out, so happy it colors you with envy– that’s the only smile you know it's 100% genuine, you seen all his earlier movies it certainly been refined but his smile is disturbingly faux… convincingly sold, nevertheless as he nuzzles you and giggles softly into your chest that you learn what his truly looked like.

When was the last time you smiled like that? You wondered.

You hand caressed his face cleaning a loose drop off his chin.

“You want me to stay tonite?”

It’s been almost 2 weeks since he stayed more than a couple hours, you don’t know what to say, he still fills you with fear but as the afternoon glow colors the tapestry and the night creeps closer and closer you want that safety… just one night without nightmares.

“Please stay…”

Homelander smiles and squeezes your sides, forcing you into a hug, he begins talking and is not a conversation you can follow or wished to but is music nowadays– the sound of another person, it's the sweetest music you’d ever listened to, searing banalities into your eardrums, but its sweet… something to make you forget that by morning he’d be gone and you be left alone with nothing but ghosts and thoughts.

“Can we switch positions?” Your arm has grown numb under him.

He grumbles pouting like a child, but he’s happy to oblige, the TV plays quietly in the background you’re unsure how much longer the tape has, but he stares at you as he sits straight waiting for further instruction, while you fix the pillows.

“I just want to be the little spoon…”

Homelander eyes light up–literally. It doesn’t last long and his lips curl dropping on the bed with eager eyes, your grimace is internal but you crawl into padded arms.

“Promise me you won’t leave in the middle of the night…” you say so quietly, he stares at those pretty eyes of yours and those thick dark circles under your eyes allowing himself to caress your cheek– until morning…”

“Ryan is off on a camping trip with one of his buddies… I can stay the whole weekend.”

“Weekend?”

“It’s friday, Y/N.” He says as if that was obvious.

Your eyes open so wide it hurts your face, but you nod furiously, a part of you dies, whatever self-respect you had is fading as the only thought consuming you is that for at least 2 days you’ll have company.

“I’m surprised you let him go”

“I have a few men watching him from a distance, and I can fly and check up on him at any point” he says through gritted teeth.

“It’s nice that you trust him. Must make him feel like a big kid… My parents never let me do such things…”

“Why not?” He asks, watching you with genuine surprise as your body loses resistance, sinking into him.

“They worried too much… always sheltering me… watching over me…” You missed them, you missed a world of people, now those obnoxious actions of the past warm your heart but you don’t let it be seen– He’s lucky to have you.”

You stayed in his arms until the credits finished rolling.

“Kill the feed!” Homelander shouts startlingly you stiff, he waits in silence grinding his teeth, jumping out of the bed almsot throwing you off the mattress, once his cape unfastened he turns back to you– what? you think i'm gonna lay down all night in this?”

You just watched him as he moved around your room entering your closet as you shook off the scare, and procuring an oversized t-shirt grumbling to himself about ordering some loungewear, you watched him undress with your heart creeping up your throat, squeezing the duvet as your worst nightmares tease an entrance to reality, with each thud of his suit and clanking of gold your heart rate doubled in speed, he who had very much avoided touching most of you, could very much do so and you’d be powerless to stop him, he turns around throwing you a look of disbelief making you wonder if ‘mind-reading’ was a unpublicized skill of his.

Without his suit… he seemed more human than he had any right to be, his bright orange undies peeking under the old t-shirt with a pulled neck allowing you to see a handful of chest hairs creeping up, Homelander left you in the room heading out, his eyes examining that all cameras were in fact turn off and so were the microphones, stopping by a tacky painting of kittens in the hallway, tapping on the thick frame carefully.

“I was thinking I should have this place redecorated” He said loudly, his hand stroking the frame– bring it into the 21st century… What do you like– farmhouse chic… art deco? Altho your house was a mix-match of things.”

You jumped off the bed and followed him keeping distance as you tried to suppress your trembling hands.

“You’ve been to my house?”

“I was curious about you… you’ve been here 5 months and the doctors are surprised you haven’t… lost your mind.” He turns to you– altho you’ve been playing the music twice as loud as before”

“Is lonely in here…” You look away trying to figure out the best words you ought to say– you haven’t visited me in weeks”

“I told you. I’m busy– I have a movie… we are doing some re-shoots… the studio feels like they need a new direction and we needed a new post-credit scene so it ties up with The Deep’s next film and–” he bites his tongue– I should call… I’ll have a phone installed… but what can I do to make your stay here less lonesome.``

“Keep me company… at least downstairs I could see the other girls…” You look down– are they okay?”

“That whole thing has been shut down. No need for it to continue if I have you.” 

He didn’t expect to see that beam of light in your eyes, but then those lips of yours straightened for something sinister came into your mind.

“What happened to them?” Faces that were still fresh in your mind spoil– are they okay?”

“Who knows…” he shrugs with genuine indifference– oh don’t make that look! I didn’t make the order, I simply told them to close shop… I can find out if you want.”

Staring into his eyes for what could’ve been an eternity but you never answered, which seemed to please him, he stretched his hand asking for yours and in that darkened hallway he seemed to be its only shadow, you obeyed afraid of displeasing him punished with abandonment for another endless loop, his fingers are always so warm and soft around yours. 

“You don’t sleep very much do you? I used to sleep a lot when they left me alone… which wasn’t often” He squeezes your hand pulling you closer– you can talk to me, Y/N. I want to know…”

“You’ve been to my home… you should know why I don’t sleep much…” 

“I can’t… imagine what you’ve been thru… If I lost Ryan–”

“I accepted it. I think it just wasn’t my time or his time…” You cut him off– I don’t know ‘bout God’s plan or nuthin but I just accepted that maybe one day it be for me but not yet.”

Homelander gave you a half moon, glad to see how strong you’ve been, glad to know you could withstand his abuse… you continued to be a challenge.

That night you both laid in bed, cradling him in your arms watching him mumble loudly in his sleep, his eyes shifting wildly, you watch him fight in his nightmare as you thought of your own… of those women and the bottles, how your signatured had doomed them, you bit your lips and watched him until exhaustion ate you up.

Waking up with a kiss from the sun without ever experiencing a single nightmare, not even their faces haunt your sleep.

It made you ill to be so relieved.

He kept you company, watching movies and eating popcorn, lounging around forcing you to read books to him, you thought that this would all you two would do-- just lounge around and pretend you weren’t growing bored.

“Wanna go out for dinner?” 

Your ears perked up.

“I’ll go and tell them to get us some clothes, and we can go have dinner.”

“You mean outside?”

“Of course silly… you’ve been good, I think you deserve it.” He jumps off the couch, heading towards the metal door dragging his feet– you like chinese. I saw you had lots of take-out menus.”

“I would love to” You ran after him, hugging him– can we get Ice-cream too… afterwards?”

“I could always go for a milkshake.” He kissed your cheek– be a good girl and go get ready would ya?”

He faded into the other side, hearing those metal doors slide open filled you with joy, you had your chance, you were good, you did all that Homelander wanted of you, you listened to his endless ramblings and you gave him what he stole you for without complaint, and now he rewarded you, the gods had finally heard you.

This was your chance.

You would run to the cops, you would hide in the sewers, you would run until your feet were stumps if you had to but you would get out of here, away from him, away from his dollhouse.

You were so focused you didn't even register his sudden kiss until you started to undress in the bathroom, you touched your cheek wondering about why he'd done so.

You did as you were told and as your hair dried he came back bearing clothes from this century entering the bedroom as you stood covered with nothing but a towel, he came in an orange t-shirt and a navy jacket his sight on your face as if he had manners. It took you a few seconds to realize these were your clothes, washed and ironed, he threw them in the bed lingering for a few seconds before returning you some privacy.

“You look good” You smile feeling weird in your own clothes, nothing but a band t-shirt and your best jeans, he handed you a jacket that was definitely not yours but a matching one to his own– they told me there’s this bar you liked quite a bit”

“The Loose End?” you smiled, they knew you there, the bartender knew you by name, the regular waitress Liz knew you too, if he took you there you could find a way out– they’re cheap and the nachos are great… and they have live music every weekend.”

“It’s a date then.” 

For the first time you crossed those steel doors, those wall held a boring room, a set of desk littered here and there alongside filing cabinets, a young man in a lab coat handed Homelander something while you looked around everywhere this whole setup was nothing but a repurposed kitchen, a storage close, and the entry hall, two large windows let the light in allowing you to see the driveway, and more evergreen forest, there were no houses just road and bushes indeed this location was as desolated as initially suspected. Leaving through the front door you spotted a pair of bikes parked on the side, while the garage was closed. A random man dragged a trolley filled with peonies, your feet were trembling as you stepped on that welcome mat, the air was so chilly against your skin, so refreshing on cracking lips.

Grass… trees… clouds… nowhere to run, you looked at the bikes but never did you look for their keys five seconds ago.

“Are we getting an Uber?” You looked at him.

He took you by the waist, not giving you an answer before jumping straight into the heavens, there was a town to the east, a highway near it, before your words could leave your body, he pressed your face against his shoulder, it's a whistling sound singing in your ear as an insanely heavy weighted blanket slammed against you, this song kept playing cut abruptly by honking, your feet hit the ground and you could’ve sworn you’ve died he lets go of your head messin with your hair as you parted from this tight embrace, looking bemused.

“Am I alive?”

“There’s not a safer vehicle in the world than me.” He chuckles– you’re fine.”

Blinking hard you looked around and immediately recognized the street peeking from the end of the alleyway, your old apartment was 20 minutes from this place, you started moving without him.

Your neck snapped back as he took your arm, forcing you still.

“The restaurant is that way.”

He held your arm so tight your fingers tingle from numbness, interlocking elbows as he forced you into the street, to passerbys you were just another nameless couple, nobody gave you guys a second look, the afternoon light was beginning to fade behind tall buildings, you look at strangers pleading for them to notice something was off only to meet discomfort and indifference, people minded their business and in the busy street you two failed to stand out, you knew every street and in your silence you hoped to see familiar faces but nothing but strangers surrounded you both.

Both stopping at the entrance of a chinese restaurant, you’re sure you’d ordered from here before, the place is loud and there’s a TV set on the sports channel, it smells of fried rice and oil and you can hear the cook shouting in cantonese, he never lets you speak and the waitress is too busy talking to her coworker to care just telling you to sit anywhere you like.

He sits you in a booth on the corner away from the window almost hidden but able to see a good chunk of the people, the tv plays in the back but you can’t see it, your face is obscured by a beam, the more you look at the decour it strikes you as cheap and busy, lights dim and there wasn’t many people inside no doubt he picked this place for a reason.

“I feel like egg rolls and sweet and sour pork… you want noodles or rice?”

“Rice… with chicken… and…” You glance at the menu– scallion pancakes…”

Time moves like a dream, you count the exits, the number of waitresses, you hear the phone used for take-out orders but from your spot you can’t see the phone, you see the paper sign saying ‘toilet’ which could lead to an unseen exit, maybe into the kitchen, but as the entree arrived you knew you couldn’t run to your old home, you could run to the nearest metro station take the train anywhere, the direction made no difference you just had to find a cop… anything to save you.

As you force yourself to chew it dawns on you how Homelander has not spoken, turning to see him and he has a dry smile in his lips, his sight focused on the table on the furthest end of the room, the party grew louder you assumed they caught his attention annoyed by their presence or something in that vein.

Dishware clank and people spoke and baseball played but his attention was on them alone, you swore you could’ve run and he wouldn’t notice.

“Are you okay?” You spoke with the meekest tone you could muster– is there something wrong with the food?”

He scoots in his seat moving closer to the edge of table, this boot could’ve sat a party of five with ease so he left you with a lot of space and for a moment you felt as if he was about to just walk out but instead he looked at the empty spot then jerked his head towards the direction of the party.

“Is there a friend of yours there…?” You try to remain bubbly, finding his demeanor uneasy.

Following him you take his former spot but he doesn’t leave the boot, and then you see it.

The big thing he was staring at.

She was so thin that it looked bigger than it should, she was a tiny frail thing and the bump protruded out of her stomach violently. She sat back down, her grin so big and her laugh so chirpy as she rejoined the group.

The group too engrossed in each other to notice… to notice the crying woman on the other side of the dimly lit restaurant.

He seemed the same, his hair was the same, his beard was the same, his shirt was the one you bought him last christmas and he looked… happy… happy as he kissed this woman you’ve never seen, holding her hand, caressing her stomach, she didn’t need a name for you to despise what she meant, there it was your ex-husband who shouted at you about not being ready to be a father, your ex who showed up late to the funeral and didn’t stick around to comfort you, who never made it to the hospital visits more than twice, here he was happy.

Looking at a young thing carrying the baby he did want.

Just like he never looked at you.

“Am so happy you’re having a little girl!” The older woman who sat across from him said– after everything that happened I'm just elated for you Eric.”

You heard your mother’s voice with so much clarity.

“After Y/N I never thought I would find somebody but I think she would’ve been happy for us. I’m just glad you guys are doing okay after everything…”

“It’s hard but you are still family and we can be happy for you and your sweet little girl”

You watched him comfort your mother, the way he talked about you as if he meant it.

When did he ever mean it? Did he find remorse in his heart after you were gone or was it to brush away the accusations.

‘Who would you run to?’ that voice in your head asked, your family was right there, your dad, your mom, a mutual friend of you both, your ex– they were all there but they didn’t see you, the more you focused on their words, the way they mentioned your name as if it made them feel icky.

“I was thinking of naming her after Y/N, I know she meant a lot to Eric and had we not met at that support group–

You ran off the booth, rushing to the bathroom, you’re sure somebody looked at you as the plates rattled, Homelander gave you a glance but didn’t follow you.

Slamming the door behind you, in that ugly cramped bathroom you screamed into your knees, every fiber of your body recoiled, tightening around your chest, you stayed there until your own sobs hurt your throat and your eyes itched from salt.

Staring at your swollen eyes and red nose you washed away what you could, nausea still lingered robbing you off your appetite.

The door opened and there was no red, white and blue suited supe, just a hall with faded pictures and a storage closet, walking not knowing what to find, not wanting to be seen.

He was still in the booth, happily waiting on you with a bag of leftovers propped on the table.

“Let’s go home…” You whispered, your throat hoarse.

“Home? Where is that?” he grins

“Home… take me home… please…”

He stares at the party who are now sharing their final drinks and readying to leave.

You sit on the edge pushing him into the booth, forcing him to pay attention to you and not those behind, maybe it was because he was Homelander that you kissed him, that you had the attention of a more enviable man than Eric ever was that you kissed him in front of him  and your family, maybe it was because it felt good, his thin lips soft and delicate against yours, it was  quick thing, his shock was palpable in the nervousness of his kiss was cute, but it felt good… for once something felt good again.

“Let’s go Homelander… I don’t wanna be here anymore…”

His lips pressed against your cheek before lifting himself, making sure to cover your sight as you both left the building turning away from the window as the party began to gather their things, he stopped for a second after walking for a few minutes.

“I just need to text Ashley something before I forget… work stuff” You didn’t care.

He typed slowly with his index instead of his thumbs which made you cringe a little.

“All good. You sure you don’t wanna go watch a gig, we don’t have to go back home.” He said softly.

“My tits hurt.” His eyes light up at the lie– unless you wanna have a sippy in the toilets before the show stars to help me out here”

“... I… I do…” 

If he blushed any harder he’d be a stop light, you smiled unable to stop chuckling at his stupid face.

“Didn’t peg you for the kind of guy to get freaky in the bathroom of a dingy bar… guess America’s son does have a real kinky side to him.”

“You have no idea darling… do you have a kinky side perhaps?”

“Fuck me.” Her stomach popped into your head, his hand caressing her bulge played on loop, his disgusting smile, all of him played all around you, memories of his touch burnt your skin, everybody had his disgusting mug on their faces– and find out.”

He took your hand and started walking faster, throwing away the bag of takeout into the lap of the first homeless person he’d seen.

The woman looked at Eric as he said goodbye to your parents, her phone buzzed, turning around to hide her screen, a text message from with a receipt for 25,000 dollars deposited on her account, as well as a doctor’s appointment booking.

She signed with relief.

“Understood.” she texted back.

[silverskull]

Chenford and The Rookie S6

This is a post where I vent my frustrations with The Rookie season 6 and the Chenford breakup. I will take questions, but I do not guarantee an answer. Retain the fact that this is a TV show I am mad at, not someone/thing in your personal life.

This month/few weeks haven't been great for me to absorb what happened in the last episodes of the season. Some of the reasons are listed below before I start sounding off.

-Unrelated but irritating:

Working 3 jobs, only 1 is paid. 

Crunch time at all 3 jobs

Visiting family expecting all of my time (same crunch weeks as work)

-Related and disappointing:

Cancelled cameo

Cancelled convention appearance

Sloppy SM and PR, frequently missing Melissa

Short S6

Late S7 renewal announcement

Delayed start S6 and extra-long hiatus before S7

Specifics:

Okay, so in 606 Tim lied - so did Lucy and Lopez. Why was there no IA investigation for them or concern about their honour? We were led to believe in 214 (Casualties) that everyone involved in an off-book mission could be compromised. So now why is the fact that Tim is lying more important than either woman compromising their career? Why is there no acknowledgement of THEIR discomfort? Lucy was already on shaky ground after he let her take the blame for SOME RANDOM SCENE COPS??!!? at the clown murder before her detective exam, but now I’m supposed to be worried about Sergeant Spotless-Record Bradford and his honour?! He could have just let that Ray guy go, or even fucking TOLD SOMEONE. He'd still have saved the Venezuelan, but it would have been above board.

And then, apparently the breakup happened over the aforementioned lying and Tim and Mark’s coverup of Ray’s misdeeds. We got no further clarification on this. And I really tried. I read deeply, DEEPLY into Tim’s reasoning (there are tumblr posts and twitter threads). I gave him the benefit of the doubt. I earnestly plead with people on twitter to give it time. But instead of that patience paying off, all we got was Tim trying to act normal, Lucy justifiably pissed, and generalised "things" opened up in (blackmail) therapy?

(Here’s where people have been coming at me too: I don’t really care about the therapy storyline. Honestly, if it’s not done well, I don’t know why we bother. I'm not out to get therapy, I just don't think it's working here. Just mention it and carry on like with Lucy after DOD, or show some scenes from the damn sessions. But turning the therapist into a blackmailer for Monica, who was selling to The Swiss?!?? or an Argentinian??? (I don’t even know and I do not care, and I will not listen if you try to explain, lalalalalala) How did we even end up here???)

And it PISSES ME OFF that we spent years building up the momentum for there to be turbulence in their relationship over Lucy going UC. We were ready. We were waiting. The traps were laid and baited. And they just went PSYCH! IT’S TIM’S ARMY DAYS THAT ARE THE PROBLEM, EVEN THOUGH WE LEAD YOU TO BELIEVE HE WAS WELL ADJUSTED BACK IN 214 WITH MITCH AND 311 WITH KATIE BARNES LOLOLOL

We have spent SO MUCH time on Tim's backstory. In fact, here's a list!

Isabel - wife -> ex-wife, UC drug addict, unfaithful

Tom Bradford - abusive father

Army - Let Mitch get his leg blown up; told Katie to let it go with a ladybird; unblemished record;

Cop Buddies - Wrigley -> lazy; Mack -> Addict;

Love Interests - Isabel, Rachel, Ashley

Family - Genny and Tyler (and some other nephew, and apparently a niece and a drunk uncle)

Here is what we know about Lucy:

Mother, Vanessa and father, Patrick, are psychologists and hard on Lucy

Mother had an affair with a patient (also named Patrick) who is Lucy's father, but - boo - he's dead. So is bff Jackson.

Aunt Amy and unseen Nana are nice.

Lucy's other love interests (206 ex, Emmet, Chris, TIMOTHY BRADFORD) have been assholes.

NOW WHOSE FECKIN BACKSTORY DO WE NEED TO SEE MORE OF???

(sorry to those of you who have heard all this from me before, I am literally typing my sporadic thoughts with you guys into longform)

Look, no doubt characters on this show need therapy, but if we’re just gonna make it a vehicle for some random side-characters to have an entire story arc, then WHY? And like, we were misled with the Bailan getting-pregnant storyline too, only to end back up where we started with fostering - because it’s only worth second place if your ovaries are geriatric. LIKE? SO. MANY. PROBLEMATICS.

It’s as if The Rookie plotters were given the outline to the exam questions… then tried to make the answers fit all the WRONG QUESTIONS (I may be speaking from experience). If the cards are laid out one way, don’t struggle to make a different answer fit. Just use what you’ve got, and use it wisely. Especially when it’s been working so well.

And another thing!!! Canon is not fiction - we all know that. We’ve all seen the ones who get carried away with fanon Chenford and ‘Lucy is vegan’-type imaginings that were never actually true. But saying if we don't like canon then we should just write or read fiction to deal with it is only serving to send people deeper into denial. There is a point where you are not crazy, and the writers did something stupid and you start understanding what ‘jumped the shark’ actually means.

Speaking of outdated TV lingo, I saw a really good tweet from Brian_Cronin :

TV showrunners accepting the "truism" that getting "will they/won't they?" characters together hurts the show, always citing Moonlighting, is because they like "rules" that remove their responsibility, as "Don't write the show poorly once they're together" puts the onus on them.

This goes for Chenford. No, Eric Winter. No, Alexi Hawley. We don’t need to see a breakup because it’s more like ‘reality’. Here’s a shocker: we come to watch a COP show, in this age of police brutality, global dictatorships, internationally ignored genocide, timelines full of dead babies and the constant looming threat of utter climate destruction to ESCAPE from reality. We are not watching a COP SHOW - A SHOW ABOUT ONE OF THE MOST VIOLENT, ABUSIVE POLICE FORCES IN THE WESTERN WORLD - for “reality”. Get your fucking head in the game. We supported you through pandemics and strikes, and you pull this season of SHIT on us.

I love all the characters, but I’m hooked for chenford. And I feel really badly treated.

If I was marking your exam, you’d get a failing grade.

“Started off well - linked UC storyline to previously-hinted relationship trauma. Dropped the plot entirely mid-way and brought in a host of unknowns. Tried to blame breakup on army issues previously marked as ‘resolved’, instead of UC drugs and unfaithful wife/abusive father? Reused names multiple times. Confusing and inconsistent. Fatally underused Chen character - inexplicably failing downwards, while Nolan character inexplicably promoted upwards. Use basic research next time."

[fangirlingfromdownunder]

A Sweet Mishap - Chapter 20

Pairing - Jensen Ackles x Reader 

A/N: I just want to start by thanking everyone for all the love on this story so far. Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list. This chapter is a little heavier (as is the story going forward, but I'll include potential triggers for each chapter as relevant), so please read the TW below and only read on if you feel comfortable doing so.

Potential Trigger Warnings: no warnings

A Sweet Mishap Masterlist | Main Masterlist

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

As the reality of making it on Broadway sets in I dedicate myself to self-improvement. I go for lengthy walks or jogs daily either before or after work depending on my shift. I call or text Jensen whenever we can, and decide to give a relationship with him a real shot. 

But, as the week goes on and he prepares to go back to Vancouver to start filming and I busy myself with night rehearsals, work at the cafe, and prep work for my classes, all while attempting to maintain a healthy sleep schedule. My contact with Jensen eventually drops back to sporadic text messages and a range of missed calls on either side. The one thing keeping me from a major meltdown is knowing my best friend will be back Sunday and I’ve already got a coffee date planned for Monday morning.

When I finally lay in bed on Saturday night, getting some much needed relaxation I scroll through my social media feed. Thanks to Jensen’s surprise stunt at the wedding and then his run-in at the barbecue joint, his face is all over my feed. I scroll through the lists of speculations about a secret girlfriend or project in New York. The adrenaline and secrecy makes me smile, but at the same time I’m terrified of the truth coming out before I’m ready. I send a few of the articles to Jensen. Minutes later he’s calling. As I answer I can hear music and other voices in the background and I instantly feel guilty for disrupting his night. 

“Hey Darlin’. Relax. I know about the posts. That’s one of the things my agent called about the other day. I’m handling it.”

“I’m sorry, did I disturb your night? You sound like you’re out. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-”

“I just haven’t had a chance to bring it up, but I’m here now. It doesn’t matter where else I am. You need me, so I’m here. Take a deep breath for me.”

I throw my head back on my pillow and take a deep breath, “There’s no way you’re real…”

“It makes me disappointed in my gender that you think that. It means your standards are low.”

“You don’t exactly get high standards when you’ve dated the people I have…But I really don’t want to talk or think about them. What’s your plan?”

“To treat you like my queen. Prove to you that you deserve the world and that you’re my number one.”

“I uh…I meant about the rumours…But that sounds amazing. It’s not gonna be easy, but I’m rooting for you.”

I hear another voice call out on the other end of the line, “Hey Jensen, go easy on my top shelf whiskey! And get back in here!” I figure it’s just someone else at the party or bar or wherever he is.

“I’m comin’!” He calls out before lowing his voice again, “I promise I’m gonna handle it all, so you can just focus on becoming the star I know you are.”

“Thanks. Sounds like your friends are missing you. You should get back.”

“Only if you’re sure you’re okay? No brisket?”

“No brisket, I’m okay now. I should get some sleep anyway.”

“Alright, Darlin’. Sweet dreams.”

I hang up and snuggle into my bed. 

After a long few hours in the cafe, I sit back at the counter in my apartment infront of my laptop. I fill out the digital forms to drop back to part-time study. I figure with getting fit, rehearsals, work and my new, budding relationship I just don’t have the time or mental capacity for the extra unnecessary stress and workload. And last night just confirmed in my mind that I need to focus on my mental health and wellbeing. Feeling a little disappointed but also relieved, I submit the forms and then focus on the required reading for the acting classes. 

After an hour and a half my eyes are straining and my stomach is growling, I shut my laptop and walk around the island bench to find something to eat. As I make a sandwich I keep glancing over at my face-down phone As I sit down to eat I quickly flip it over and slide up for notifications. I notice a missed call from Stella. I quickly call her back, excited to hear from her after what feels like the longest week ever. 

“Hey, Bestie! How’s married life?”

“Amazing! I’ve had the best week ever! I can’t wait to tell you everything tomorrow!”

“Abridged, please. I need a PG version, M at your worst. You can leave out the X-rated stuff, which I know there would have been plenty of.”

“That takes out 90 per cent of my week! Nah, you know what Nick’s like, we did plenty of PG-rated activities.”

“Speaking of Nick, shouldn’t you guys be enjoying your last afternoon and night before the official end of your honeymoon?”

“You would think…But Mr. Reality-check got back to reality the second we touched down. He’s busy checking mail and paying bills and then onto meal prep. I guess it’s good one of us wants to do that…”

“I’m sorry…”

“I know who I married. It’s sweet really, cause I know he’s only doing it to make the transition easier for both of us, and he knows I’ve been dying to hear your goss!”

“We agreed to talk about everything tomorrow…” I say trying to deflect as I start to pace.

“Yeah, but I’m only gonna get an hour for lunch and that includes travel time to and from the cafe. And I need more than the 45-ish minutes that we’re gonna have left. So, tell me about you and Mr Tall and Sexy.”

“There’s honestly not much to tell…We are a maybe something…a far-fetched possibility…”

“There’s a story there…You need me to come over?”

“No! No…You need to be at home with your husband. In other news! Grease? The audition YOU signed me up for…”

“No way! You got it? Who? Sandy? Frenchy?”

“Understudy…and…Female Student number three.”

“Well, you’re gonna be the best damn Female Student number three to ever bless that stage!”

“That’s the plan, but also, chances are over the six week run I’ll get at least one matinee show as the lead.”

“When that happens, I’ll be in the front row.”

“I know you will. Thanks.”

“I’m glad you got a part. I was worried I was gonna have to get you the junior HR position…”

“Broadway is where I want to be. I’m willing to work for it. It’s my first role and it’s a great position. No one lands the lead as their first role…except for probably Jensen Ackles,” I add under my breath.

“What’d he do? You always wear the blame but it’s always the guys in your life taking advantage, so what did HE do?”

“Nothing…I’ve got so much work to do before classes start this week, and I’ve got rehearsals most nights.”

“Hey, I’m your best friend. You can talk to me.”

“I’ve just got a lot to do. I’m thrilled that you had an amazing honeymoon and I can’t wait to see you tomorrow. But go enjoy your night with your husband…”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“I know. Enjoy your night.”

“I plan to. Don’t get too in your head about whatever’s going on.”

I sigh and hang up. As I try my best to refocus on the text about tone and enunciation, my mind keeps wandering back to the night before and the endless rumors that I’m caught in the middle of.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Taglist: @stoneyggirl2 @hobby27, @n-o-p-e-never, @deansimpalababy,

@winchesterwild78, @kr804573, @chriszgirl92, @smoothdogsgirl

@speakinvain, @deans-baby-momma, @1967winchesterimpala

[defectivefanboy]

Hey there! I’ve read a few of your posts now and I truly enjoy your writing, you’re very good at it ^^

I was wondering if I could request an Alastor x gender neutral reader who is similar to Beetlejuice (personality and power wise). Like, how did he feel about them at first? And how did it progress into more of a relationship.

If not, that’s completely alright! I hope you have a great rest of your day <3

~ 🕷️🕸️

yessir!! this is actually the first time (and second for good measure) that I watched Beetlejuice fully through.

I was wondering if I could request an Alastor x gender neutral reader who is similar to Beetlejuice (personality and power wise). Like, how did he feel about them at first? And how did it progress into more of a relationship.

Overall notes: Stories written on this blog are GN until specified. While this story uses they/them pronouns, and I don't mind female readers on my blog, I do not write for y'all, and if you are a fetishizer fuck off????????????????? ew.

C/W: Cursing, Mentions of Pervertedness, its Beetlejuice, You're canonical Jesus Christ /j, or am I?, Dark humor, Possessive Alastor, Mentions of Bite marks, Dirt ball reader, just reader being gross here and there, nothing too much, youre Beetlejuice, reader has universal rizz

Notes: If you read the C/W warnings it was real late leave me alone. you'll understand when you get there. writing this my mind kept straying and just wanted to write Alastor love because god holy fuck I love him. Im an actual slut for domestic alastor I could write him all day.

The Radio Show...

Oh he's truly interested in you. Not remotely romantic or even platonically, but he is interested (at least at first)

Lets be real quick, he knows hes in hell, but what IN the hell is he looking at.

And what was that outfit you were wearing??? Did you just get out of prison prom???

But your first meeting with him was... interesting to say the least

But then again I think all your interactions are interesting (always more, never less)

But damn. He just had to think the 'sinner' was new to hell and could easily get a quick bite

Poor Alastor really thought the 'sinner' that looked around hell like a lost child as he strolled up with his uncanny smile

Last thing he expected was a jumpy, sporadic, and unfortunately a bit more then a little bit of a pervert.

The record stopped more than a few time at your comments–- Sorry Alastor.

And it had only been a few minutes of meeting you (rip)

And to be honest with you. come here. little closer

He did not know what in all of hell you were trying to pitch to him

He couldn't even get a word in with how fast you talked

And how many voices you did, you basically had a conversation to yourself.

"Ghost can't even scare humans away anymore, pfft. Can't you believe that shit. The last jack offs wouldn't even call me, I had to get some human girl to do it. Is it weird it happened twice? Second time her mom was dead! Gets funnier each time."

Oh?

Humans?

Now you have his interest

And you were able to travel to the human world

"So you're a hell born demon then, correct?" Alastor asked quirking a brow at the questionable individual in front of him, who quickly stopped talking to, well, themselves and snapped their head to him. They seemed to had just gotten here... or gotten back, as their clothes were slightly tussled and their hair was flying everywhere

With a quick dusting of your clothes you straightened your posture. Clearing your throat you spoke in a flat monotone voice. "Well, no actually, uhm, I was born in a manger inside of a barn, my mother, was a virgin and my step father Jospeh was a real piece of work let me tell you that. Died for your sins, y'know, should be thanking me."

This is the first time the radio show had gone radio silent... before he walked away.

Alastor had met a lot of demons, probably killed even more.

Hell he has even put up with that horny spider, but this was the first time he had to take a breather from another sinner? demon? enigma?

But damn it all to hell, he was curious

He had been for so long and he had only interacted with lower hellborn demons.

The occasional Goetia or hell royal would make a public appearance, but that that was all.

Never had he interacted with someone who went from hell to the human world on the daily

The first few meetings he truly tried to keep his distance, keyword tried

But you can only keep a person who teleports around at a distance for some long

Though it to end in you being pushed back by his microphone when you got a bit too close on accident more often then not

But overall he enjoys each of your meetings, enjoy being used loosely

He was more interested in the ever changing world of humans

You only get as knowledgeable of the new world as it comes in, but you have to find them

So having a way to always keep updated he truly enjoyed.

He kinda saw you as, well, while he would say a mole, as you get him information

Not that you honestly realize, you kinda just talk about random shit

He sees you as well, as uh, ahem...

"Quite the squirrelly fellow you are, aren't you?" He quipped with a smile on his face. The both of you walking along one of the many roads of hell as you talked about your latest excursion to the human world. Giving him a confused look you gave him a side eye a you spoke. "Now, what do you mean by that, hm? I don't storage tree nuts in my cheeks, I storage metal nuts in them." Taking your hand you drug into your cheek and pulled out a rusted nut before offering it to him. In which he squatted away with his microphone.

"No."

Alastor in or out of a relationship now seems like the calm one out of the pair whenever you two are together

And he always has a tilt to his head whenever he's with you as if he's always curious about your next move (well bc he honestly is)

Getting into a relationship is simple to him, but not to you.

He had to explain a few times (many times) to you that you two were on a date while out. Thank the lord he has more patience then he let's on

Truly he's only patient with you after learning he'll get no where either way

He tried threatening at one point, but it didn't work when you tried getting him to work for you in the human world.

Spoiler alert: that also didn't work

Alastor did tried to ask you out in a traditional way. Taking you to dinner, albeit at a cannibal restaurant, he really didn't know what you ate

He was disgusted when he found out, almost gagged, had to take a moment for himself

But he tried asking you out in a nice, classy, quiet place.

Spoiler again: didnt work

His question when right over your head.

"Go out? Aren't we already out? What we doing then? How more out do you wanna be? Gotta say though, never been to a place this fancy, must got some walking cash, huh? You know we could start a business together I be the brains, face and you can be..." You droned on as your hand flared around as you spoke. Alastor stared at you as static rumbled from his chest, one eye twitching in annoyance. Sighing he shook his head as he stared with a smile. Maybe you didn't understand what he was asking, or maybe you did. To be honest he doesn't know how much you know, but maybe letting you go on about whatever it is you're planning and get a deal out of you.

Nothing big, just a small pact that you two are "partners."

Cheeky Bastard.

He did tell you eventually someday, he's not heartless

Don't mention that it was after he had convinced you to move in his home (or apartment?? he staying at the hotel?? like??)

But it's another story for getting you to take a shower or a bath.

While Alastor isn't a clean freak or anything he much rather keep his house clean and smell free.

Alastor had quite a few sleepiness nights when you decided to sneak into his bed without a shower.

He almost banned you from the house until you agreed to take a shower after 'work'

now onto the good part

While he doesnt enjoy physical touch from anyone, only part taking in it when he's making someone uncomfortable

He settled on the fact you were gonna keep making every effort to get into his personal space

You only found out he enjoyed having you near him when your items from the guest room you had been staying in were now in his room

Be it having a hand placed on the middle of your back or letting you fiddle with his fingers as you talk

He always finds a way to get a touch in on a daily basis

What can he say? he likes to have a hold on what's his

That's another thing

He's a possessive lover, or person in general but ignore that right now

He just doesn't understand

Why do you have so much rizz

Both sinners and hell born demons seem to love you

And he hates it

Loathes it

If we wanted to get Nsfw real quick

He likes to leave bites and marks on you so even humans know where you belong <3

Going back to sfw

On the outside, beyond the walls of his home. He's well, he's Alastor

Cunning, Cruel, and Evil

But inside? .......Hey Siri, can you domestic a deer?

We already know he enjoys cooking, his mothers recipes are always a hit. He does have to convince you to eat something if it's new.

But he's decently domestic within the comfort of his own walls. As domestic as he can be will a feral dog in his home now. At least you're potty trained, right? Right??

He always enjoyed being alone, especially when he needed a break.

But as weird as it was for the first few months

Going to bed alone in a quiet home, everything neat and orderly was always a treat for the

just to wake up to a god awful mess like a hurricane had hit only the inside of the house.

Thankfully he's unable to fully freak out when he feels the weight of a body laying on him.

Arms wrapped securely in place as he moved around trying to view the full scope of the mess.

The look of defeat only rested on his face for a moment before he was pulled down by striped arms.

"What are staring at, red?..." You said half asleep as you pulled on the back up his shirt collar. "it's still too early to worry about the mess. Come back to bed" He gently shook his head in disgust opening his mouth to speak before getting cut off by a strong pull of his shirt. "I was setting up... sandworm traps. Couldn't't let them get my dearest deer." Alastor gave you a questioning look wanting to ask, but knowing better not too.

Sighing he let himself relax back into the comforter and wrap his arms loosely around as you laid right back on top of him. One of his hands softly treaded through your messy hair causing you to sigh and melt into his body. It was a quiet few moments until he had a passing thought.

"Wait... deer with an A, correct? Correct??"

He wasn't getting an answer from you anytime soon...

[ssuperficialspacecadett]

The Sunshine State

Chapter One of the Through the Scope series | Chapter Two

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 4K

TW: Mentions of sexual assault in readers past, mentions of drug (cocaine) use

Chapter Overview: You're desperately looking for a job when one falls right into your lap.

Notes: I have decided to try my hand at writing for Frankie (: He is my favorite Pedro character after all. I don't have a posting schedule, so chapters will be coming at you sporadically. I apologize in advance for that (uni is outrageously time consuming). I hope this first chapter gets your interest peaked for whats to come ! Happy reading <3

*No use of y/n & female presenting reader*

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

The serene music that is emitting from the coffee shop speakers is doing nothing for your nerves. Maybe that is due to the fact that you were on your third cup of coffee in two hours or maybe it is that you have already been in Florida for a week and still haven’t found a job. You blow a strand of hair out of your face and continue staring at the seemingly endless job applications on your computer. You find yourself cursing under your breath for the thousandth time that day. Why couldn’t you find a job you liked? When the words on your screen start to blur together, you lean back in your chair and let out a heavy sigh. You need to remember why you were here in the first place: your dads recovery. 

After your mom died a few years ago, dad decided to move into a retirement home. He realized how hollow the ranch house was without her life enhancing presence and opted to venture to Florida. You were cross with him for up and abandoning you, but you tried your hardest not to let your resentment show. Her death hit him the hardest. He seemed to be doing well whenever you visited him over the holidays. Unfortunately, it was an illusion. You mom’s constant nagging at him to stay on top of his diabetes died with her. 

As soon as you got the call you were on the next plane to Florida. He had suffered a stroke that left his walking impaired. The two of you fought back and forth about your being there. He didn’t want you to have uprooted your life back in Texas, but it wasn’t up for debate. Hair and eye color weren’t the only shared traits between y’all, stubbornness was just as deeply ingrained in your DNA as it was in his. An agreement was reached between you after a tear filled argument. You would reside in Florida for six months, the amount of time when the most progress is made for stroke patients, and then leave. Unable to live in his retirement home, you found a cheap apartment the next day. 

You drain the last bit of coffee from your cup and close your laptop. As much as you dreaded going back to your empty apartment, you couldn’t stay here any longer. You place your laptop back in its case and slip it into your tote bag. The buzzing of your phone snaps your attention back to the table.

“Hey Robbie!”

“Hey! How’s the sunshine state treating you?”

You let out a low groan. Robin, or Robbie as you lovingly dubbed her, was your best friend and roommate back home. You had very little emotional connection to your home state, but Robbie was your life line. She was there for you when your mom died and then when your father subsequently left. You didn’t know how she managed to be so attentive to you and juggle law school at the same time. You owed her a debt you could never repay.

Your attention gets pulled away from the call when a group of women sitting in the corner of the coffee shop start laughing and talking loudly together. For a brief moment you try to picture yourself sitting and laughing along with them. Robbie, the ever logical one, pulls you from your delusion. 

“Are you still there?”

“Fuck. I’m sorry. God, it's so lonely here without friends. Don’t get me wrong I love spending time with my dad, but when I’m done visiting with him I just come home to an empty, barely furnished apartment.”

“I told you that I would come visit you over my spring break.”

“I know, but that's over two months away.”

“Why don’t you spend your free time looking for a man? Maybe you will have better luck there than back home.”

“I don’t have time!,” you counter. “I have been here a week and I still haven’t found a new job. How am I supposed to pay rent, furnish my apartment, or even feed myself if I don't have a job? My savings is only going to last so long. Besides, all the men that I have interacted with so far are practically geriatric.”

“You always did like em’ older.”

The two of you talk for a little while longer. She manages to pick your spirits up despite her teasing you. She lets you know that she has to run because one of her lectures is starting soon, but she promises to call you back later this week.

You stand up and place your phone in your back pocket. You easily slip your tote onto your shoulder and gather up the empty cups you collected over your time in the shop. While you walk to the trash a bright orange flier pinned to the corkboard above it catches your eyes.  

HELP WANTED

Receptionist for Brass Knuckles Boxing Gym

432 Peach Dr, Jacksonville, FL 32246

Contact Ben Miller at (904) XXX-XXXX

Starting pay: $20.00

Honestly, you ponder, you have nothing to lose. Beggars can’t be choosers. Plus you recognize that street. It wasn’t a far drive from where you are now which means that it’s close to your apartment. The pay was higher than minimum wage and being a receptionist couldn’t be that hard. You toss your trash into the bin and pull out your phone to dial the number. The ringing of the phone next to your ear muffles the sounds of the still laughing group of women as you exit the coffee shop. 

“Brass Knuckles, this is Benny speaking.”

The subtle southern accent that comes through your speaker washes a wave of calmness over you. Maybe you did have some attachment to back home.

“Hi,” you introduce yourself to him. “I saw your flier for needing a receptionist at your gym. I was wondering if you were still hiring?”

“We are! Would you like to come in and tour the place right now?”

You take a peek at the time displayed on your phone. 3:15 P.M. You should have enough time to check it out and then head to your dad’s before the after work traffic rush.

“Actually that would be great.”

“Perfect. I’ll see you soon then!”

***

The gym was a stand alone building constructed of rough looking red brick. It had large windows that allowed you to see some of the equipment and, more importantly, the front desk. You hop out of your car and check both ways before crossing the parking lot. As you turn your head from right to left you see a bar across the street. The rickety, wooden sign on the building has a shotgun painted onto it and the bar’s name, The Barrel, is appropriately painted onto the barrel of the gun. At least you know where to go to get a drink now if you don’t get this job. You take a deep breath and swing open the glass door to the gym. 

A sharp ring of the door’s bell and the potent aroma of sweat and cheap men’s body spray are the first things that greet you as you enter the building. You swear that if you get this job, fixing the odor in this place will be one of the first orders of business you carry out. You look over at the front desk as you wait for Benny. It is positioned to sit squarely in the middle of the lobby. There is a brick wall, the same type as the outside, directly behind it. The back wall only extends as far as the desk does. This makes for two entrances into the gym. One on the right and one on the left of the desk. 

“You made it! Thanks for comin’!”

You shift your gaze from the white blocked lettering on the brick wall that reads “Brass Knuckles Boxing Gym” to where the voice rang out from. You're stunned when a man rounds the corner shirtless and out of breath. Good fucking god he’s toned. He smiles boyishly at you and pushes his grown out, sandy hair back. He turns his head to see what caught your eye.

“You like the new sign? I paid someone to paint it on the brick a few weeks ago. It looked so empty before.”

“Y-yeah, it's lovely.” 

“See?!,” he throws his hands up exasperatedly. “The guys said it was stupi-that’s not important now. Anyway it’s good to meet you in person. Wanna start the tour?”

You nod at him and he waves at you to follow him back into the gym. He points out each of the stations he has set up. 

“We have machines for your legs here. Then in that corner are machines for your upper body and core. Our heavy bags are kept in this area. I also have some weight benches set up over there for people to use on lighter workout days.” 

You’re trying to soak up everything that he is saying, but to be honest, most of the machines look the same to you. He takes you to view the showers, the laundry room, and to his back office.

“When I’m not training with a client I’ll usually either be here in my office or in there with a heavy bag on a stand.” He points behind you.

The center of the gym holds its crown jewel: the boxing ring itself. The walls of it are made from a red, tarp like material and the center of the ring is a deep shade of blue. Poles, wrapped in white padding, protrude from each of the four corners and four rows of thickly braided, white rope encase the entire thing. 

“I’ve never actually been in one of these before to be honest.” you laugh. “I’ve only ever seen them on T.V. when I’m channel surfing and land on WWE.” 

“No way,” he looks genuinely shocked.

“Yes way.” you shrug apologetically. 

“Being in there is electric, man. Gotta be one of the best feelings in the world hands down.” 

You feel at ease talking with him. He seems really passionate about what he does and all that goes into it. You give the gym another once over and then it dawns on you; it’s a ghost town. 

“Hey, where is everybody?”

“It’s usually pretty slow around this time of the afternoon. Our busiest times during the week are when people come in here around 12:00 P.M. to burn off steam during their lunch breaks and then after 5:00 P.M. when work gets out. Saturdays are packed most of the time because we aren’t open on sundays.

“Ahh.”

“But all hell breaks loose when we have our famous Friday Fight Nights!,” he nudges you in the ribs. “There isn’t a free seat in the whole damn house! People screamin’, beer sloshin’, bets bein’ made. It’s my bread and butter.”

“That sounds insane, Benny.”

“You mean you have never heard of it before?”

“I moved here a week ago actually. I’m sure I would have heard of it if I had just been here longer!”

“Alright, you get a pass. What made you choose Florida to call home?”

You normally don’t like telling people your personal business so soon after meeting them, but Benny has a trustworthiness about him that you can’t ignore. Maybe making friends would be easier than you thought.

“I moved here to help my Dad actually. He’s having some medical issues and I want to be here to help him work through them. I figure that I’ll be here for maybe six months? I’m not sure if that would work for you though. That’s kinda the reason I’ve been struggling to find a job.”

He looks at you with genuine understanding.

“If six months is all you can give me then I’ll take it.”

“Wait? I got the job?”

“It’s perfect if you think about it. You need a job and I need a receptionist ASAP. If you want, since you’re new and all, I could be your tour guide. Born and raised here.”

A weight seems to immediately lift off your shoulders. If he wasn’t such a sweaty mess you would have given him the biggest hug.

“Okay, great!”

He claps his hands together. “Drinks on Santi tonight!”

“Santi?”

“He’s one of my older brothers and I’s friends. He bet that I couldn’t get a receptionist within a week of the last one leaving and you just helped me prove him wrong.” 

“I’m happy to help. Do you mind if I ask why your last receptionist left?”

That wipes the giddy look off his face.

“Well,” he scratches the back of his head. “She ended up leaving because she said some of the patrons were a bit too forward. I asked her to tell me which ones so I could ban ‘em, but she wouldn’t give ‘em up. I totally get it if that changes your mind about taking the job.”

Your throat goes dry as an icy tingling sensation makes itself known on your skin. Fuzzy images of unwelcomed hands being a bit too forward as you lay on the couch. The smell of tequila burning your nose as he whispers to you. Clinging to the sounds of the movie he put on in the background to distract you.

“You alright?”

“Yes!,” you rush out too quickly for him to believe. “I’m fine. I just zoned out for a second there. I’m sure I’ll be fine. Plus I promise that I will tell you if anyone tries anything.”

He seems satisfied with your answer and walks back up to the front desk with you.

“You want to come get drinks with me and the guys tonight? It’s going to be me, which you already know, my brother Will, Santi, and Frankie. We usually go to The Barrel. You would be the guest of honor.”

“I’m flattered, but,” you look at the time on your phone. “I should head out before traffic gets bad.”

“Next time, next time. You already have my number so just text me and I’ll let you know what time you can come in on Monday. Don’t worry about the rest of this week. I can hold it down until you officially start.”

***

“Dad, I needed a job and I found one. What's the issue?”

He puts his hand up to let you know he is catching his breath. You sit in a chair next to him while he rests in between his physical therapy. The exercises mainly consisted of his physical therapist, Maggie, working the muscles in his legs. Even still, they took a lot out of him. He was still a ways away from standing or walking on his own. 

“The issue is that you’re going to be the only woman in a place full of men on steroids. I don’t like that.”

“God, that's such a you thing to say,” you argue. “I’m not a little girl anymore. It’s also not a male only gym, dad. A lot of women work out and take boxing classes too. The manager, Benny, seems really nice. He was the one I met with earlier today.”

You watch as he opens his mouth to presumably hurl a retort your way, but he stops himself. Your heart breaks as he sighs and turns away from you. He hasn’t been himself since the stroke. You know that you can’t even begin to understand what he is going through, yet you’re trying. The anger he is feeling isn’t directed at you, but it still hurts nonetheless. He is a proud man at heart, so all of this attention and fretting over him must be weighing heavy. You extend your hand and place it softly on top of his. Although he is still looking away from you, his brows unfurrow and his lips fall from the tight line he held them in.

“I’ll be fine. I promise. I told you that I would be here with you for your recovery and that's what I intend to do. This isn’t a little issue, dad.”

He turns to look at you again, eyes glossy from fighting back tears. “I know, I just-I just feel like a damn burden.”

“You aren’t,” you squeeze his hand. “Everyone needs help sometimes and now it's your turn. You took care of me my whole life. The very least I could do is be by your side right now.”

A soft knock on his room door pulls the two of you out of your conversation.

“Hi, hon. I don’t mean to interrupt, but I need to finish Greg’s session.”

“That’s fine, Maggie. I was about to head about anyway.”

You stand up from your chair and give him a hug before you collect your purse. He reminds you that he has his poker tournaments on Sundays, so you didn’t have to come in to see him then. Getting ditched for a deck of cards and a bunch of old dudes. That’s gotta be a new low. You wave at Maggie as you pass her while heading to the door.

“Hey, sweet pea?”

You turn around to a name that you have been called since before you can even remember.

“I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too.”

***

The Barrel is unsurprisingly empty on a Thursday night. Benny, Frankie, Will, and Santi all sit at their usual table in the back corner of the bar. The small army of empty beer bottles huddled in the middle of their table makes up for the lack of local patrons in the building.

“She seems really great. Even complimented the way ‘Brass Knuckles Boxing Gym’ looked painted onto the brick. I told y’all it wasn’t stupid. It also doesn’t hurt that she's beautiful, man.” 

Santi lets out a low whistle before tipping his still half full beer in Benny’s direction. “I’ll drink to that.”

“I don't think you're going to be able to break this one man. She’s got a lot on her plate so the last thing she needs is a piece of shit like you comin’ in and adding more trouble.”

Will and Frankie snicker at Santi’s face that shows faux offense to what Benny just said.

“I enrich the life of every woman I meet. No one has ever left my bed unsatisfied.”

“A lot on her plate?” Will chimes in to direct the conversation into a more appropriate one. “What does that mean?”

Frankie nods his hat in the direction of Will signaling that he is thinking the same thing about you as well.

“Yeah. She was talking about how she moved down here to help her dad. Said he had an accident or somethin’.” 

“Think she will be able to boost Friday ticket sales?”

“For the love of God, Pope,” Will laughs and shoves the man sitting next to him. “Can you get your mind out of the gutter for two fuckin’ seconds?”

“No, he’s onto something, Will,” The other three men can see a plan unfolding in the reflection of Benny’s eyes. “If I can get her to double as my ring girl for the fights we would be swimming in it boys.”

Benny tells them that he had invited you to come celebrate with them, but you had plans already. The more he talked the more curious the group was to meet you. 

“Why don’t you let Fish get a word in, huh?” Santi interrupts. 

Benny puts his hands up in surrender and turns to the man sitting beside him at the table. Frankie had been quiet since they closed up the gym for the night and headed to the bar.

“What’s wrong, Fish? Cat got your tongue?” Benny jokes.

“Fuck off, man.” 

“Yeah, what’s up? We are celebrating tonight.” Santi adds.

Frankie downs the last of his beer. It isn’t cold anymore due to the fact that he had it in an iron grip.

“Rochelle texted me,” a unified hush fell over the table of four. “She said she wants to get back together. That she wants to ‘make it work’ this time.”

Benny is the first to break the silence.

“Rochelle? God I hate that woman and I’ve never hated a woman in my fuckin’ life.”

“Shut up, Benny,” Will grumbles in the direction of his younger brother. “What are you going to do, Fish?”

“I don’t know. I miss her. I just- she’s just- I don’t want to relapse.”

Another silence envelops the men. Each and everyone of them knew what he meant. After Frankie got out of his last tour he fell into the arms of the first woman that came along. They all knew she wasn’t the one for him, but he hadn’t been happy in such a long time so they let it slide for as long as they could. Then the coke came into the picture. Benny tried, Santi tried, and Will tried to get him to cut her off. He was spiraling and didn’t even realize it. When he was on coke he didn’t remember all of the horrible things that he did and that he saw. It felt like he was on top of the world, until he fell right into the unforgiving ground of reality. 

He failed a routine drug test at work. They fired him right on the spot and put his pilot's license under review. Ironically flying was the only thing that kept him grounded. Now that he didn’t have it the guys knew they had to help him. They managed to convince him to cut Rochelle out of his life. Then they urged him to check into a rehab, even if it was a temporary one. Once he got out, he found a job at an auto body shop. It wasn’t aviation, but it was a start. He had been clean ever since. Seven months to be exact. But even the sight of seeing her name light up his phone screen made his body ache for a fix.

“We didn’t let you drown the first time, Fish. We won’t let you drown this time.”

Will’s words hit him like a ton of bricks. He knows it's true. They never once gave up on him through the entire thing. The only thing Frankie can do is tip his worn, black cap in Will’s direction. Benny lovingly claps him on the back and then the conversation is put to bed. 

While the rest of the men move on with their night, Frankie can’t seem to turn his brain off. All he can think about are his two vices: Rochelle and Florida snow. He can already hear the water beckoning to him. Calling his name in that alluring, all too familiar voice. Begging him to come back and be cradled by the waves until they swallow him whole.

“Everyone shut up. She texted me.” Benny exclaims.

They all lean in to look at what you sent him.

“She’s just asking about the schedule, dumbass.” Santi scoffs. “Have her send a picture.”

“And how the fuck am I supposed to ask for a picture without sounding creepy?”

“You could tell her that you need a picture to use for her login profile at work?” Frankie offers, desperate to distract his mind from his own thoughts.

“Fish, you’re a Goddamn genius.”

Santi gets up to buy another round for the table while Benny crafts his text to you. He hits send only after he has gotten the green light from everybody. They all wait anxiously for the next few minutes until they see your name appear on the phone screen. Benny scrambles to type in his password as the guys all crane their necks to see a glimpse of the photo. 

“You way undersold her, Benny. She’s gorgeous.” Santi marvels and Will agrees.

“Wow,” is all Frankie can muster as he looks at you. He tries to memorize everything about you. The way your hair falls, how kind your eyes are, and how soft your lips look. He feels his ears burn as he looks at your nose and wonders what it would be like to kiss you on the bridge of it. With each new thing he finds on your face to admire, the water’s voice gets quieter and quieter until it's nothing but a whisper. Still there, but only a whisper.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

[sotwk]

I just read "A stab to the heart", and first of all, I loved it, just... perfect! The way the Thranduil is so worried for her and he can sense when she wakes up is just way too good for me!

Honestly, the last line of the fic: "We saw ada frightened" just hit me so deep that I had to come here. So, I didn't check to see if you have already written about this in the headcannons masterlist (and I'm sorry if you did and I haven't noticed!) but how do you think that Thranduil and their kids reacted when she died? Like, how their feelings and thoughts after this? I've always assumed Thranduil being an extremely good father, so I can't truly imagine him being mean to any of their kids, but how do you think that they (specially Thranduil) took the news that their queen had died?

Eeek! What lovely feedback and an even lovelier fic-related question! (I am so lucky and grateful to get such nice Anons in my inbox; I am spoiled.)

A Stab to the Heart (Fic Link)

Part 2 of this 2-part fic is over 50% written, but has been stalled in the basement of my brain for over six months now (yikes)! Hopefully I can shove it back into motion soon!

In regards to Thranduil being so in-tune with his wife that their minds are practically in a constant state of ósanwë (Elvish mind-link), I would like to point out a few key details about their relationship:

"A Stab to the Heart" takes place in Third Age 1012. By this time, Thranduil and Maereth have already been married for 1,188 years and have been mutually in love for an additional 1,700. And ever since they married, they were hardly ever parted for any significant amount of time (as opposed to most other Elven couples, like Celeborn and Galadriel, who would live apart for years). Needless to say, you would be hard-pressed to find a couple more tightly, lovingly bonded then the Elvenking and Elvenqueen were to each other.

THEIR ROMANTIC HISTORY: (Link to related HCs HERE) It took Thranduil about 50 years of sporadic meetings to realize he was falling in love with Maereth. However, he knew his father would loathe the idea of his son pairing off with a Noldor (much less one descended from Fëanor) and it would have great repercussions on their kingdom, so Thranduil tried to ignore his growing feelings and sought to maintain just a friendship with her.

Maereth nearly died in the Sacking of Eregion, and Thranduil had been there to witness it; he had held her while she was gravely injured and felt the terror of her slipping away from him. Ultimately, she was saved by the healing of Elrond, but this experience left a permanent mark on Thranduil. From that day on, he found the only thing that ever scared him in his life: losing Maereth to the Halls of Mandos.

What do you do when you realize you love someone so much you cannot live without them? You ask them to marry you, of course! And so Thranduil did, but it took another thousand years of determined courtship to get Maereth to say "yes".

The Aftermath of the Elvenqueen's Death

I have yet to fully write the story of this terrible tragedy (I'm intimidated by it, to be honest), but a version of it was written, including the immediate aftermath, in my Thorin-centric fic, "The Broken Shield", where Maereth died during the War of the Dwarves and Orcs. I wrote out more details of her death in this headcanon post.

As for the reactions of the family (those who were left, anyway)?

OH BOY.

(SPOILERS to the SotWK AU, if anyone cares about that sort of thing, under the cut. Also, it gets pretty sad, so I apologize for the emotions this story may cause.)

Thranduil very nearly died from heartbreak. This was the darkest point in Mirkwood's history, the kingdom that had already been fighting off spiders, orcs, dark creatures, and poisons for centuries. All that was nothing compared to the realm's grief over their Elvenqueen's death, and fearing the likelihood their beloved Elvenking would either die from heartbreak, or finally leave them for the Undying Lands.

Note that by the time the Elvenqueen died, Thranduil had already lost three out of five of his sons. Only Gelir and Legolas remained, though he also had his daughter-in-law, Itarildë (Mirion's widow) and two grandchildren, Crown Prince Aranion (heir to the throne) and Princess Anariel.

Upon his return home to Mirkwood to bury the Elvenqueen's body, Thranduil was uncharacteristically cold and seemingly emotionless. He turned into stone (metaphorically) as a way of holding himself together, for the sake of the people who depended on him. He did not have strength left to properly comfort his family, and could only parrot the kingdom's motto, telling them they "will endure".

Gelir, the most impulsive of the Thranduilions (and second to Turhir as the most hot-tempered), lashed out in vengeful rage. Legolas just barely convinced him not to immediately ride out to seek revenge against the Orcs.

However, about three years after the Elvenqueen was laid to rest, Gelir once again tried to convince his father to allow him and Legolas to lead their armies to rejoin the Dwarves (Thrain's people) in their war against the orcs. Thranduil refused, and instead decreed that all travel to other realms was forbidden while the Dwarves fought their war.

Frustrated by this (and still grieving his mother), Gelir finally broke down and rebelled openly against the Elvenking. He attempted to leave Mirkwood on his own, only to be chased down by his father and dragged back to the Halls in chains, where he was thrown in prison.

Does this sound harsh? I take a pause in this dramatic tale to point out that Thranduil was a very, VERY good father to his sons all their lives. The Princes were over 2,000 years old by the time their mother died; not only were they adults, but they were wise enough to know that they were not exempt from their kingdom's laws, and should understand the grief their father carried from all these terrible losses. Not only did Thranduil need to demonstrate the strength of his authority, but he also refused to risk the death of another family member, even if it meant imprisoning his own child.

After the war ended in TA 2799, Gelir was finally released from prison, after being held there for 3 years. But instead of making peace with his father and submitting to the King's decrees, he openly criticized Mirkwood's isolationist policies, which had become even stricter after the Elvenqueen's death.

Legolas, caught between the two dearest people in the world to him, could not get them to reconcile their differences.

After another year of strife between father and son, Thranduil gave Gelir an ultimatum: reaffirm his fealty to the Elvenking and his laws, or be banished from the kingdom. Gelir, believing his home had become a "cage" that he refused to be locked in, chose banishment.

Gelir asked his brother to come with him, forcing Legolas to choose sides by staying with Thranduil. He remembered a prophetic plea his mother once made to him many years before her death: "above all, choose your father". His decision was also influenced by the special closeness he had with Thranduil.

Thus, Gelir left the kingdom in the winter of TA 2800, and cut off all contact with his family. Legolas was the only Thranduilion left.

For a century (TA 2800-2900), Thranduil struggled against his personal demons of anger and grief and longing to be with his beloved wife again. In spite of his depression however, he continued to govern his people effectively, but only with the help and loyalty of Legolas and his devoted daughter-in-law and grandchildren. (Note: SotWK AU does NOT accept the coldness and rift between Legolas and Thranduil as shown in the film adaptation. Legolas ultimately proves to be Thranduil's most steadfast son. The conflict between Tauriel and Thranduil, and her romance with Legolas, do not occur in SotWK either.)

In TA 2850, when Gandalf uncovered Sauron's identity as the Necromancer--something Thranduil had suspected for centuries, but his reports went unheeded--the Elvenking slowly began to return to himself, remembering the hard battle that still needed to be fought to protect his kingdom.

In TA 2911, Thranduil even began to loosen the restrictions against traveling outside of Mirkwood, when he allowed Itarildë and Anariel to join Gandalf in giving aid to the Hobbits of the Shire during the Fell Winter, just as their family had done previously during the Long Winter (TA 2758).

By the time Thorin and his Company arrived at Mirkwood in TA 2941, the remnants of the royal house of Thranduil were back in fighting form, although the Elvenking would always carry a longing for his wife that would not be healed until their reunion in Aman over a century into the Fourth Age.

For more Thranduil/Mirkwood headcanons: SotWK HC Masterlist

Elves HC Tag List: @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @achromaticerebus @aduialel @asianbutnotjapanese @auttumnsayshi @blueberryrock @conversacomsmaug @elan-ho-detto-elan-15 @entishramblings @freshalmondpandadonut @friendofthefellowshipsnerdblog @glassgulls @heranintomyknife23times @ladyweaslette @laneynoir @lathalea @lemonivall @LiliDurin @quickslvxrr @ratsys @scyllas-revenge @stormchaser819 @talkdifferently6 @tamryniel @tamurilofrivendell

Other useful links:

Introduction to SotWK

Fanfiction Masterlist

Fanfiction Request Guidelines

[rythmicjea]

On the last day of summer vacation... The Writer and His Muse

Full disclosure, I wrote another version of this last night. It was... factually correct. But it just wasn't good. So I saved it and took a few steps away and realized what I was supposed to be writing. I apologize now this is going to be long.

When I came up with the idea to write this series, I wasn't sure of the structure. If I'm honest, I still don't know lol. And after being called the "Riverdale Analysis Auteur" (thank you @storkmuffin ❤️), I promise to do the utmost to put forth only my best for you. There isn't going to be an uploading schedule so follow the tag "Code Word Jeronica" to see when I post.

My intention with this is to show that from the pilot there has always been the opportunity for Jeronica. I know what you're saying "there's an opportunity for ALL pairings."

And, yes, while you are correct. There were some possibilities that were more feasible than others (Sorry Jarchies!). For the skeptics out there, the showrunners did chemistry tests with so many pairings. Cole even admitted that he did one with Cami and he was open to a Jughead/Veronica relationship "It's the CW, anything can happen"! Coding isn't always intentional or needs to be taken seriously. And that's okay. As a writer myself, I understand the "side character curse" all too well.

With all of that being said, I will only be focusing on the evidence we get in the show itself. I may reference the comics sporadically (like how Jughead and Veronica have been paired up/dated several times in the comics, throughout the comic's history. Below is a picture from Pep #154 in 1962!) but I'll never reference anything outside of the source material as evidence.

The Writer and His Muse

It's established from the pilot that Jughead is a writer, an aspiring novelist. All writers need a muse. Something that inspires them to put pen to paper. In Greek Mythology, Muse was a Greek Goddess who gave inspiration to all. Often, a muse is referred to as a beautiful woman but it can be anything. The show Riverdale is the muse for fanfiction writers who write in the universe. Jughead has several muses throughout the show. He goes through various tribulations with his writing. We see him suffer with writer's block, make a deal with the devil (both Jugheads in Rivervale), and we know that the story that put him on the map was a telling of him and his friends.

In the overall show we know of five big stories that Jughead writes. Jason Blossom's murder, The Red Dahlia, Killing Mr. Honey, The Outcasts, and Bend. Towards. Justice. All follow a pretty basic plotline. Something happens, a group of teens have to investigate, there's a surprise twist, and then a resolution.

But, through all of these he has one muse that is constant. Would you believe me if I told you it was our fair Veronica? Because it is. Before you ask "What about Betty?", let me ask you the same. What about her? She is a character in his stories. Sometimes she's the main character. But being the main character and being a muse are two very different things. Veronica's presence in his stories symbolize different major elements to a story. More than any other Riverdale character.

Throughout the series we see Jughead struggle with his writing. His father tells him to keep writing as a way to get out of Riverdale and not get caught up with the Serpents. We see him have profound writer's block, plagiarize another author, change the way he writes due to his disability, and physically lose his ability to write. His writer's block, and the complications with it, start in season 5 and aren't resolved until season 6.

Here's an unexpected bonus from helping Veronica...

...I started writing again.

She is, and has always been, his muse. This is the first time he acknowledges it, but the clues have been there since day one.

Jason Blossom's Murder

The first story begins with the pilot's very first scene. It also introduces the audience to a concept called "The Center of a Story". The center of a story is just how it sounds. It is the element that brings everyone together. However, while this can be the main character and what that character goes through, it can simply be a person or place that has very little interaction at all with the main story. In a murder mystery, which Season 1 is, the center of a story can be the murder victim. In telling that story we can either have flashbacks of the person's life up until they are killed; or, they are simply the reason why everyone comes together (and not even just to find out why. Sometimes the why isn't necessary).

Jason Blossom is the center of the story. It's all about finding out who killed him. But the muse of the story? The hook? The character's entrance that actually connects everyone together? That's Veronica. "On the last day of summer vacation, a new mystery rolled into town." Jason's murder is the B-plot of the season. It might have kicked everything off, and the action might be connected to him, but it's not the entire reason why Jughead is writing this book. In fact, the opening soliloquy says:

Our story is about a town, a small town, and the people who live in the town. From a distance it presents itself like so many other small towns all over the world. Safe, decent, innocent. Get closer though? And you start seeing the shadows underneath. The name of our town is Riverdale.

The story was never about Jason Blossom.

The Red Dahlia

I'm not going to touch on this much, because I have a whole post planned just about this episode. But, I want to point out that out of all of the stories we see him write, this is the only story that focuses solely on one character. It's completely about Veronica. She, like Jason, is the catalyst. The difference is that, unlike Jason, she plays a major role.

Killing Mr. Honey

In his last story to submit to the University of Iowa, it's about how seven teenagers try to get rid of their unethical and overbearing principal. We have known up to this point that Jughead loves horror. He likes to write "Lovecraftian" style stories. The difference between the two are HPL rejected morality. He considered himself a "Morality Atheist". Jughead, on the other hand, loves morality tales. (In 1955 there's a whole episode about it.) This is most evident in this telling. Each character represents an architype. Veronica, arguably, is the most important architype. She represents morality. She's the only one who really challenges what they are doing. Specifically, Jughead. At face value someone can go "Well, Jughead and Veronica aren't friends so it makes sense". First off, no, they very much are friends. But, second, if they weren't, why put her in such a place of honor. In actuality, given his character in the show (and the comics), Archie should be the moral compass of the story.

The Outcasts

The Outcasts is really the only story that we have very little knowledge of. I freely admit that for evidence, it's the weakest of the five. It presents coded details for the audience to infer their meaning. Jughead is the Viper Leader, the Serpents are the Vipers, but is Betty The Homecoming Queen? Most likely. The co-ed he takes home tells him that he wrote a "very sexy book" in regards to the Viper Leader and the Homecoming Queen. However, in his drunken voicemail, he lambasts Betty. One line in particular stands out "You're a cold, fake, duplicitous bitch. And once people read my book, everyone's going to see that". Now, we don't know what is in the book (Kind of wish they'd released it) and it could end with the Homecoming Queen cheating on the Viper Leader with the Football Captain (I'm inferring that that would be Archie's character). Or, they could have lived happily ever after. Or... using the ambiguity to stretch the possibility... the Homecoming Queen could have been Veronica.

Why? Well, there's a reason why the Enemies to Lovers trope is so popular. What better way to get back at your ex for cheating but to immortalize their best friend (who was also cheated on by your best friend) as the true-love-fairy-tale-princess of your wildly popular NYT best seller?

Bend. Towards. Justice.

The last story we see Jughead write is when they've been taken back to 1955. 7x01 is very reminiscent of the pilot. But, for Jughead and his writing, it's always been in the details. Season 7 is my favorite season, and trust me, I have a lot to say about what happens. So, I'll keep this brief. Even when he describes Tabitha it's very factual. There's no emotion. He lists who she is and the reason why she might know what's going on. Please don't take this to mean that at this point he isn't still in love with her, because he very much is. When he sees her, he doesn't know the 1955 version isn't his girlfriend. He keeps all of his emotions bottled up until he can figure out a plan. And to spare her from any craziness because her memories also might be gone. Up until this point, everyone's description is "This person is here, and this is who they are". Including himself.

For starters I live in an abandoned train car with Hot Dog which... actually tracks... Betty and Kevin aren't merely friends, they're dating. Cheryl's twin brother is alive, but he's not Jason, he's Julian. No sign of a Reggie yet. But Archie exists and he's pretty much a teen Charles Atlas... I've been waiting to reconnect with the one person who might shed some light on our predicament because she was both Chronokenetic and the town's guardian angel. My girlfriend, Tabitha Tate.

He mentions that all of this information is "overwhelming, heartbreaking". But he doesn't say why because there are many reasons why. His best friends don't remember anything. Do they even really know him? With one one question he realizes that the person he loves doesn't love him back. But he breaks this way of introducing the "characters" when he introduces Veronica. It's all emotion. There's even a sexy jazz trumpet riff announcing her.

"Damn..." His thoughts whispered to him breathlessly. "Even in 1955, Veronica Lodge still knew how to make an entrance." He goes from boredom to attention. He straightens his shoulders, he sits up to see her better, and he doesn't blink. Like everyone else, and very unlike him, his whole attention is on her.

THE PILOT

Now that we've gone through the five major stories we know he writes, let's go back to the end to see the beginning. The last episode of the entire series ends with a typewriter. All of the stories mentioned above are stories written within the main one. Riverdale itself is a story (possibly Archie Comics fanfiction) written by Jughead.

The pilot itself, as all TV shows, has a narrative woven throughout. There's characters, conflict, plot, etc. Though the episode opens with Jason's murder the pilot was never about that. Hell, Jughead is barely featured in it. We see him two significant times. The first time is two minutes in, where he's drinking his coffee writing his story. And he says the classic line, "We were still talking about the Fourth of July tragedy on the last day of summer vacation, when a new mystery rolled into town." We are introduced to Veronica Lodge, by Jughead, right after we're introduced to him. At this point he's only named Cheryl and Jason Blossom as that is the impetus for this show/season. "There needs to be a dead body".

The pilot is about Veronica. She moves to Riverdale, she meets Archie and Betty, she mentions Our Town, and her desire for Archie is established. Compared to Veronica, it takes 8 minutes to mention Jason again and 10 minutes to bring him back into the plot. Then nothing significant happens with him until the very end of the episode! But even after that brief interlude it's only 5 minutes later Veronica is given her first conflict. And by the halfway point, she's thoroughly decimated said conflict.

So, Miss Auteur, why are you bringing this up?

Because Riverdale was supposed to be about Archie. But by the end of the first half of the first episode Veronica is the only character to have a full plot arc and even an epilogue! More importantly, she is immediately woven into the fabric of the town. Even though the Varchie romance is introduced we must remember how the episode is being framed.

If you compare the narration to the writing on Jughead's laptop, it doesn't match up. Cole Sprouse might have read everything on said laptop and it was shortened for time. But, I wouldn't read too much into the discrepancies. I mean, the previous two pages are exact copies of each other lol. And while there might not be numbered pages it's at least four and I'm baffled about what he could have written prior to the opening lines. Also, as a writer, there are the things we think we're going to write and the things we actually do write (For example, I wrote a 16 chapter 100k+ Zack and Cody fanfic, and I didn't know the show existed! The Suite Adult Life). Our thoughts vs our words carry weight to a story. An argument can be made that either position is the most important. Is it better to write out that which we keep so closely guarded so it may live on in infamy? Or are the most profound thoughts those we keep closest to our chests?

Though one little line stands out when I do read it...

"See, the Blossoms had their tendrils wrapped around the entire town - no one wanted to make enemies of them."

Who is the person not wrapped up in their tendrils? And who immediately made an enemy of Cheryl Blossom?

Bisous, Bisous... Votre Auteur.

[lovelylusts]

cloud nine // csb // 03 - d-day

summary: a group of friends form on nsfw twitter, and hijinks ensue. but when jisu starts catching feelings for soobin after filming with him, she has to grapple with her feelings while assuring her close bond with him doesn’t die.

general warnings: choi soobin x oc (moon jisu), smau, smut, fluff, angst, crack, the rest of txt is here too, aespa is also here just bc they serve, no relationships or events in this story reflect real ships and are just for the story, this is a pro sex-work story obv, lowkey probably gonna be filthy as hell considering it’s a sex work au, vague relationships lmao, she/they oc because i’m projecting, genderfluid yeonjun agenda, oc has a not-so-secret thing for soobin’s hands, they use fake names on twt :)

chapter warnings: this one is written!!, there’s a lot of warnings i’m sorry 😭, hard?dom!soobin (with mildly sub thoughts), sub!oc (with mildly dom thoughts), jisu uses she/they pronouns but i only used she while writing this to make reading more seamless, lots of mentions of sexting and nudes and sex work onlyfans and nsfwtwt as per the last chapters), grey sweatpants deserves its own warning tbh, she wears a collar and cat ears but there’s no petplay, filming, dry humping, biting + hickeys, brief mention of edging, obscene amounts of precum mentioned a few times, they’re both pretty needy and fucked out, some pretty messy deepthroating, very brief and vague comparison of jisu to succubus, consensual !! head-pushing, face-fucking, makeup kink?????? idk he likes seeing her makeup get more and more messed up, praise, the tearing of clothes, nipple play, pussy eating, fingering, squirting, protected!!!!! vaginal sex (cowgirl), lil bit of possessiveness but it’s just dirty talk, multiple orgasms (jisu), aftercare

word count: 4.5k

series masterlist // general masterlist

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the weekend came sooner than jisu had expected. she had spent the past couple of days making overpriced coffee for broke college students like herself, and her nights going over video ideas with soobin that led to steamy phone calls. it wasn’t the first time the two had had a sexual exchange - in the early days of being mutuals, as was common in their sphere, they had numerous sporadic conversations that veered into late nights filled with hasty texts riddled with misspellings from having to text with one hand as they aided in getting each other off.

it was always funny to jisu how her friendship with soobin started, and how their group of friends formed. they were all strangers from the internet who all, except for yizhuo, lived in seoul for various reasons, be it living the former idol trainee lifestyle or having been born and raised there. if anything, jisu had been more intimate with these friends than any partner in the past couple of years since she had created her twitter account. their group chats were filled with opinions on racy photos, exchanging stories of hookups, and shamelessly flirting with each other on a platonic level.

so why was jisu so nervous right now? this wasn’t the first collaboration she had ever done - her most popular post to date was a collection of photos of herself and minjeong posing lewdly together in skimpy witch costumes for halloween. was it his height? his versatile personality in sexual situations? jisu eventually landed on the idea that this would be the first time she filmed herself having sex for profit. the idea made her stomach flutter.

soobin lived a short drive away from her, and it was a drive she had been well acquainted with for a while now. beside her in the passenger seat sat a backpack that, during nine months of the year, was filled with textbooks and folders, but was now housing a collection of objects that her fans knew well - some pastel pink rope, a small black bullet vibrator, fluffy pink cat ears with a dainty collar to match, and so on.

neatly on top of these items was a folded set of lingerie. the previous night, while on facetime with soobin, she rummaged through her extensive collection of sexy garments, looking for sets she wouldn’t miss if something were to happen to them. it was a hard decision, but they eventually agreed on a simple lacey set that was quite see-through - there wasn’t really anything special about it, but it still hugged jisu’s body perfectly and made the blood rush out of soobin’s head down to his dick.

jisu felt her heart thumping harshly as she navigated her way around soobin’s apartment complex until she ultimately reached his place, her hand firm against the pale grey door as she knocked three times, the door opening only moments later to reveal her tall friend.

she was always shocked when she saw him in person because, in her words, “he’s basically a giraffe.” she couldn’t help but gaze over him, noticing that he was wearing those damn grey sweatpants that she recognized from late-night photo exchanges. oftentimes, he would be wearing those well-loved sweats when he sent her photos of him grabbing the outline of his hard member. this has to be on purpose, she thought to herself.

“hey, jisu,” he said sweetly as he pulled her in for a hug, his arms wrapping tightly around her waist as she did the same. he couldn’t help but take in her signature scent, a soft mix of vanilla and lavender, and he held her close. maybe it had been due to the days of anticipation and planning, but he could already feels the butterflies in his stomach and the blood rushing down to his cock as he pulled away from her. “you ready?”

“let’s do this.”

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jisu thought that she’d be prepared for this. after so long of filming and taking photos of herself in compromising situations, she truly thought she was ready for this. but as she sat on soobin’s lap on his bed, grinding against him with her back arched away from the rolling camera and her covered chest against his bare one, she had never felt so vulnerable in her entire life - not when she opened her twitter account, not when she sexted a stranger in her dms for the first time, not when she first posted on onlyfans. it seemed that it was soobin’s large hands gripping her ass as he rocked her lace-covered clit against the monster in his precum-soaked boxers that made her feel more exposed than ever. it was her long dyed hair swept over one shoulder so the camera could capture soobin biting and sucking on the sensitive skin of her neck that adorned a fluffy baby pink choker. it was the fact that she was unsure if she had ever been this aroused in her entire life.

soobin himself wasn’t holding up too well either. it was as if there was no blood left in his brain because it had all flowed down to his other head. through all the grinding and grabbing and heavy breathing and sighing against each other, he felt that he could finish at any moment - he was so thankful that he had trained himself in the art of edging, because he was certain that he would have cum at least twice already had that not been the case.

“s-onyx,” she sighed out, being careful to only refer to him as his social media name. “i-i wanna suck your cock. please.” jisu couldn’t help that her request came out as a breathy whimper. she was familiar with his dick from photos and videos, but she had never seen it in person. the thought of finally being able to touch him made her mouth water.

soobin’s brain almost short-circuited upon hearing those words leave her perfect lips, the lips that he had seen wrapped around her own fingers, candies, and sex toys that made him think god, i would give anything to feel them around me. his head lolled back, his teeth digging into his bottom lip due to the combination of her dirty words and a particularly delicious roll of her hips against his own. “fuck, yes.” he almost let a please roll out as well, but with what little control he had over himself at the time, he knew he couldn’t. he couldn’t slip out of the dominant role after all the planning that went into this video of him ruining her.

jisu slid off of his lap, looking down and smirking when she saw the large wet patch that covered his boxers, then grabbed the secondary camera and handed it to soobin as she fixed her lingerie and hair while he turned on the camera, fumbling a little bit due to the arousal that made his brain feel foggy. the camera soon switched on as he held it at his chest, looking into the view finder to see the perfect image of jisu between his thighs, somehow looking so innocent yet so seductive, her nipples poking at the thin lace of the bra she chose for the shoot, and fluffy pink cat ears pinned to her lightly curled hair - he soon decided that no matter how incredible she looked at that moment, her appearance wouldn’t matter by the time he was done with her. his goal was smeared mascara, torn clothes, and cum covering her face and bleached bangs.

her intimidation was overshadowed only by her excitement as she began to tug down the waistband of his underwear, watching as he lightly lifted his hips up to help her, until they were off and discarded somewhere in his bedroom. she swore she could sense soobin’s heart racing as she eyed him up and down with dark eyes before wrapping her right hand around the base of his cock, her other hand resting on his hip bone. she looked up at him through her mascara-coated lashes - she made sure to forgo her usual waterproof mascara in favor of letting the black run down her face in streaks and splotches, maybe even some staining the light blue quilt below her. their eyes met, both of them smiling at each other briefly, before she stuck her tongue out to lick a stripe from right above her hand all the way to his leaking tip. upon her tongue reaching his head, she began to slowly glide her hand up and down his cock, the movements made easy by the obscene amounts of precum released only minutes earlier, while wrapping her lips around the head of his cock, moaning lightly as she took in the taste.

soobin threw his head back, an obscene moan leaving his mouth as his right hand instinctively reached ouch for her, his fingers lacing in the strands of her hair close to her scalp. he wasn’t going to force her movements, not yet at least, though it took everything in him to not do so. they had talked about it - face-fucking, that is - and while she was, to quote, “so down,” he wanted to take in the moment. he wanted to know what she would do while she was in charge of the moment.

jisu was a bit worried about how much of him she could fit in her mouth. she knew he was huge, but seeing it in person, having it in her hands, was way different. fuck it, she decided, and decided to surprise him by taking him as far as she could down his throat, which was considerably far for how long and thick he was, and a loud gag erupted from her throat as she tried to hold his member in place for a second, pulling away when she felt it was too much, an obscene amount of saliva following her lips. she took the moment to recover a bit, stroking her right hand along his length and spreading her saliva as she lightly twisted her wrist.

she reveled in the sight of soobin’s reactions as she did this, seeing that he was already struggling a bit. his cheeks were red, and despite him biting his lip, he was still making quite a bit of sound. she realized that he had never actually filmed with anyone before. she had gotten so used to him either doing fan-service content in the form of dirty talk audios or photos of his really pretty hands, or videos of him simply jerking off, but she had never actually seen or heard him with another person. for a second she tried to convince herself that it was the excitement of not always being able to expect what a partner may do that made him react in such a way, but, for the sake of her ego as well as the throbbing between her thighs, she told herself it was all because of herself. she shot him a small smirk before taking his length back into her mouth, this time bobbing her head, a soft gag leaving her throat each time she took him.

his grip on her hair tightened a bit as he struggled to breathe properly. he had had many sexual ventures in his time being a college student, but this was different. he swore that she was secretly a fuck, what are they called? those hot sex demons. suck something. suck. suck. holy fuck she’s sucking me off so good. he couldn’t think straight as he felt her hot, wet mouth around his painfully hard cock. he was still gripping the camera with one hand, though he no longer cared if the shot was clear or not, whether it was even pointing at her or if the had angle shifted while he struggled to not writhe under her touch. “fuck, baby, it feels so fucking good,” he groaned out.

jisu could feel her cheeks heat up ever-so-slightly at the praise. this entire situation was really bad for her ego. she pulled off of him with a deep, loud inhale, even more saliva pooling around her mouth and fist, as well as along soobin’s length. her momentary stop gave him the slightest moment of clarity, checking to make sure the camera was focused and looking at the view finder to see jisu with flakes of mascara beneath her eyes, the small bit of eyeliner smudged, and the cat ears lopsided from where he had grabbed the hair next to it. he also used this moment of clarity to go through the mental list he had made of things they thought about including - they hadn’t decided on anything concrete, deciding to go with the flow and do whatever felt natural. so jisu wasn’t exactly surprised that soobin had moved his fingers closer to the back of her head to push her down towards his cock. she eagerly let him take control, at first only lightly guiding her movements as she returned to her previous routine of taking him down her throat.

soobin was able to focus better this time around, the small pause having helped him compose himself. he was nearly convinced that this is what heaven felt like. her lips looked so perfect around him, her eyes looked so perfect as they met his with a devious innocence - which was something he was sure would never exist until he saw jisu peer up at him so sweetly while doing such sinful things to him. that’s when he decided to fully grab her hair and hold her head in place, instead pushing his hips up towards her face. the gagging sounds intensified and became shorter as he went at a pace quicker than what she had previously set.

she was loving every second of this. it was fun to be in control, even if just for a moment, to make him lose his mind, but she had to admit that being used as a fucktoy suited her just as well. she felt the tears that had already formed along her waterline begin to drip down her face, her eyes stinging a bit as her mascara began to face its demise. but much to her disappointment he soon pulled his cock out of her mouth, looking at the mess of saliva in awe.

“you did so good for me, jiu,” he said, trying not to sound as breathless as he felt for the sake of his ego. “wanna taste you.” he quickly saved the video and turned the camera off before pulling her back towards him, delivering a hard smack to her ass before pushing her down on the bed, making sure in the view finder that a good amount of her body was shown, then reaching for her lacey bra.

rip.

he had pulled at the seam between her breasts until it tore, pushing the two pieces to the side to reveal her nipples, perky from the cool air now meeting them. he grabbed her soft tits in his hands, lightly squeezing them and running the pads of his thumbs over her nipples, which, judging by the slight whine that came from her, were sensitive. he reached over to suck on one nipple while pinching the other, reveling in the small sounds she made as he did so, switching sides to assure they were both equally loved, before trailing his lips down her torso, making sure to leave hickeys here and there before reaching the waistband of her underwear.

jisu knew was to expect when he sat up briefly, quickly tearing the other half of the lingerie set and letting it fall against the bed before he leaned over, wasting no time and diving in, slipping his tongue between her sticky folds to collect some of the wetness leaking from her pussy. she let out a whiny moan, her hips jerking lightly. he was barely starting, and she was already infatuated by his tongue.

“god, you taste so fucking good,” he growled against her, pushing her legs further apart and bringing her legs over his broad shoulders. he was fully addicted to this, there was no doubt. he felt as good giving her head as he did receiving it from her - how could he not when she tasted that good? and she was so sensitive too, practically just as much of a mess as he was minutes earlier, but way more vocal about it too. her soft, high-pitched moans were so filthy, so pornographic, they were music to his ears. he didn’t care how messy his sheets were becoming beneath him as he lightly ground his cock against the fabric, surely leaving behind a large puddle of saliva and precum as he stimulated his painfully hard cock.

she was sure she had never been this sensitive before. like soobin, she had also had her fair share of sexual escapades in her time as an undergrad student, but nothing was comparable to this. not even close. his tongue moved flawlessly against her wet heat as his large hands dug into her hips as she bucked against him. she felt like she couldn’t even control her hips as her hips lightly jerked, which eventually turned into full-blown grinding against his face when he decided to wrap his plush lips around her clit. she was so far gone that she hadn’t even noticed his right hand leaving her hip, only noticing when she felt a finger or two teasing the entrance of her tight cunt.

the sound she released as he inserted a finger into her pussy was probably the best sound he thought he would ever hear, though this was quickly replaced by the sound she released as he curled the finger against her g-spot. he swore he almost came from taking in her reaction alone. her fingers were entangled in his soft black hair, desperately moving her hips to make him go faster. this only led to another slap being delivered to her ass.

“you’re gonna take what i give you when i give it to you, or else you’re not cumming. have i made myself clear?” he talked to her sternly, making her head spin so much that she could barely let out a cohesive sentence. “i asked you a question, baby.”

“yes,” she squeaked. “i’ll be good, i promise.”

“good girl,” he muttered as he reconnected his lips to her swollen clit, entering another finger into her wet cunt and continuing to finger-fuck her with his digits perfectly angled against her sweet spot. “you’re such a fucking mess for me. i wonder how many times i can make you cum tonight. wanna find out, baby? hm?” his deep voice almost sounded condescending, laced with so much arousal that he was sure he barely sounded like himself.

“please make me cum,” she repeated over and over again like a mantra, more and more tears spilling from her eyes and falling down her temples, her head thrown back against his comforter as she felt the knot in her stomach begin to tighten. already? fuck, how is he capable of this?

her pleading only encouraged him as he sucked harder on her clit and pushed a third finger inside of her, fingers hitting against her g-spot at a pace he didn’t think he was capable of.

“fuck,” she squealed, her first orgasm of the night crashing down on her like a tsunami. she didn’t even notice the wetness that was gushing out of her, hitting not only soobin’s face but also his blanket.

“fuck, jiu, that was so fucking hot. you did so fucking good,” he rambled as he brought his face back closer to hers, pressing a kiss against her lips. the kisses were messy and needy, moaning into each other as they tasted themselves on each other’s tongues. “i need to be inside you, holy fuck.” he wasted no time standing up, making sure to take the scraps of fabric off of jisu’s body and throw them haphazardly across the room before walking towards the camera set-up, making sure that everything was in place for the last scene.

the view finder showed that the camera couldn’t even capture how incredible, how erotic jisu looked to him. hickeys littered her collared neck and pale torso, her eye makeup was everywhere except where it was meant to be, her ass was a soft red from where his hand had met the smooth skin, and a thick sheen of ejaculate and precum slicked her inner thighs. the most devilish angel he could even dream of.

he walked back towards the bed and sat back against the pillows, pulling her towards him to sit her in his lap, both of them shivering as they lightly brushed against each other. he was quick to grab the condom off his nightstand and roll it on his cock before tightly grabbing jisu’s hips and pulling her down to sit on it, watching with a dark gaze as his length disappeared into her pussy. he couldn’t help but pull her close against him, moaning into her neck as her tight, warm, wet walls fluttered around him.

“fuck, you’re so fucking big,” she whined out, raising her hips until he was mostly unsheathed before lowering her hips once again. his cock was filling her perfectly in every way, brushing just right against her g-spot and even hitting lightly against her cervix. it was at that moment that she was almost certain she could die happily.

“you’re so fucking tight. god, this pussy was made just for me, yeah?” soobin kept rambling as she bounced on his cock, her tits jiggling and her perky nipples brushing against his chest every so often. these words weren’t just taken from the random audios he would post - well, he had probably said those words before, but he didn’t actually mean it. this time, though it wasn’t evident to him due to how little he felt his brain worked from how good she felt, he really did mean it. sex was ruined for him forever, he was convinced. no one could make him feel as good as jisu was.

jisu was fairing far worse, basically unable to form words and instead whining an affirmative against the skin of his neck, where she couldn’t even bring herself to return the favor of the numerous bruises littering the skin of her neck, instead pressing soft yet messy kissed in an identical spot. she wasn’t sure if it was her lack of clarity or something else, but his words sparked something in her. it really did feel like he was speaking the truth, after all, she couldn’t disagree that she had never been filled up so perfectly before, how no one had made her feel so incredible it was basically unreal. the feeling, rather than any of this actually forming a coherent thought in her fucked-our brain, was interrupted by soobin’s hand colliding with her ass yet again.

“use your words,” he demanded before bringing his hand down on her once again. as much as he loved hearing her pathetic little sounds, he craved hearing the words struggle to come from her mouth. yeah, this shoot was definitely unhealthy for his ego, but he couldn’t have cared any less when her pussy hugged his throbbing cock so nicely.

“y-yes. my pussy was made just for you.” saying the words out loud brought back the funny feeling, though it was quickly replaced by the rubber band inside of her snapping once again, crying out as she came. soobin lifted her hips up so the camera could see as he reached his fingers between her legs as her orgasm rippled through her, rubbing his fingers against her at a furious speed, making another round of fluids gush out of her hole again. soobin’s cock, thighs, and any of the surrounding blanket was absolutely soaked, but god, they both loved it.

he brought her hips back down, this time taking control completely when he realized she could barely move by herself. his grip on her was intoxicating, sending shivers down her spine as she cried from the overstimulation. “please,” she cried out to him, “i need to cum again.”

he grinned deviously at her. “anything for you, babygirl.” he brought her hips down against his faster and harder, addicted to the way her walls kept constricting around him. his words aided in bringing her closer again already, her moans becoming more and more frequent with her volume becoming harder and harder to control. then he brought his fingers back to her clit and rubbed in small circles.

“fuck, fuck, fuck,” jisu kept crying out against him, cumming hard around him once again, squirting all over him before falling limp against his chest. he took the opportunity her current state gave him to push her backwards, making sure her legs weren’t in too uncomfortable of a position before he ripped the condom off and sat his knees on either side of her neck, and began quickly stroke his aching cock. finally, after forcing himself to hold it in for the duration of their filming, soobin finally let go, his cum spurting out and painting her face, hair, and clip-in cat ears in what felt like ounces of cum. he ran his fingers through as much of his cum as he could gather before shoving them in her mouth, whispering praises to her as she licked it all off.

⋆⛧*┈┈┈┈﹤୨♡୧﹥ ┈┈┈┈*⛧⋆

jisu soon learned that soobin was not only incredible at fucking, but incredible at after care. shortly after removing his fingers from her mouth and taking a moment to regulate his breathing, he got off the bed and made his way to the bathroom connected to his room, coming back with some wet washcloths to clean the messy mix of saliva, precum, and cum off of both of them, making sure to get as much cum out of jisu’s hair as possible so washing it later wouldn’t be as difficult for her. he threw both of the dirty towels somewhere in the room, deciding to pick up the loose articles of clothing later. right now he had to focus on jisu. he grabbed the extra pair of clothes she had packed and helped her put on the pair of boyshorts and the loose t-shirt, though he couldn’t help but notice the many other goodies she brought that they didn’t use.

“i don’t think we needed them,” she said with a small shrug as she sat on the chair he had placed her in so he could change out the sheets on his bed. “you were… wow. i don’t think i can ever sleep with anyone else ever again.”

“same,” he said with a chuckle. “we should do this again. with or without a camera.”

“yeah, i would really like that,” she said with a smile. the entire time he helped her unwind after they finished, she couldn’t help but notice that the weird feelings of butterflies that she had gotten earlier had returned. but they were done filming, there was nothing sexual going on. so what did it mean?

⋆⛧*┈┈┈┈﹤୨♡୧﹥ ┈┈┈┈*⛧⋆

[chicgeekgirl89]

Read Chapter 8 on AO3!

Carlos has never hated his condo more in his entire life. Why did he pick so much grey when he decorated this place? And black? And  beige? He’d thought it was sleek and modern at the time. Now that he’s stuck here recovering he feels like he’s trapped inside the pages of a newspaper. 

He hates to admit it, but he kind of misses his mom and his sisters. It took a week for them to start leaving him alone again. Considering his sisters both live more than an hour away, they’d done an admirable job tag teaming coming into town to pester him and make him eat his vegetables and take his supplements. He’d been relieved at first to have some space, but now he’s so bored he’d take their nagging again in a heartbeat.

T.K. had come by with the supplements as promised, but Carlos hadn’t seem him because he’d been sleeping and his mom had refused to wake him up. He’d been annoyed when she’d told him, especially because T.K. had left two days later for New York. And without a cellphone Carlos has had no way to communicate with him at all.

His new phone finally shows up halfway through his second week of recovery. When the doorbell rings to announce the delivery driver, Carlos whips it open so fast he scares the shit out of the guy and has to apologize.

It takes three tries to get it set up and he almost throws it against a wall and smashes it all over again in frustration. But then it finally comes life and he’s relieved to find that all his contacts populate back into place automatically. He won’t need T.K.’s post it note after all. 

The first thing he does is send him a text.

Carlos

[2:35pm] How’s New York?

T.K.

[2:36pm] Sorry, who is this?

Carlos

[2:37pm] Haha very funny. I’m the one whose phone broke, not you. And my number is the same.

T.K.

[2:38pm] Sir, I’m very sorry about your broken phone, but you have the wrong number.

Carlos snaps a selfie of his frowning face and sends it. The response comes back seconds later.

T.K.

[2:40pm] Still no idea.

Carlos sighs and unbuttons his shirt, then snaps another selfie.

T.K.

[2:43pm] Ooooooooh, hey Carlos. How’s it going?

Carlos

[2:45pm] You’re such an ass.

T.K.

[2:45pm] *smirk emoji*

[2:46pm] New York is fine. My favorite Thai place closed. But I’m finally eating decent bagels again.

[2:46pm] How are you? Stitches driving you crazy yet?

Carlos

[2:47pm] God yes. They hurt. And they itch. I want to rip them all out.

T.K.

[2:48pm] I can’t recommend that.

[2:49pm] Your mom and sisters still around?

Carlos

[2:50pm] They have finally decided that I can be left alone for several hours at a time. Thank god.

[2:51pm] How’s your mom? I’m sure she’s happy to have her favorite son home.

T.K.

[2:52pm] Lol yeah she’s happy. Actually, I need to get ready to go. We’re seeing Wicked tonight. It’s her favorite.

Carlos

[2:53pm] A classic. Have fun Defying Gravity.

T.K.

[2:54pm] The Texas boy knows his musicals. I’m impressed.

Carlos

[2:55pm] It’s Texas, not the moon.

Their texting is sporadic over the next week. T.K. is busy, and with the time change it makes it hard to send more than a couple texts before one of them is needed somewhere else. 

It’s crazy how much he misses someone he’s only spent about twenty total minutes of time with. His texts with T.K. have become such a safe space. He feels seen and heard when they talk. Not having that and being forced to stay home for days on end makes him realize how lonely he’s been the last few years.

He’s also bored out of his freaking mind. His stitches come out after two weeks and he’s allowed to return to light duty at work, which is a good distraction as he eagerly counts down the days to his date with T.K. like a kid waiting for Christmas. 

When the day finally arrives he is a mess of nerves. He changes clothes three times before settling on a green shirt, jeans, and a pair of boots.

In a burst of creativity he’d suggested a honky-tonk for their first date. It seemed appropriate that T.K. get a strong reintroduction to Texas culture after being back in New York for so long and T.K. had eagerly agreed.

Carlos pulls up to the honky-tonk ten minutes early and grips the steering wheel tightly, sucking in deep breaths. This is going to be great. They’ve waited so long. The universe has to finally throw them a bone tonight, right?

…not THAT kind of bone. Although…he wouldn’t say no. In fact he would say a very enthusiastic yes. The thought of T.K.’s lithe body in his hands…

There’s a tap on his window that scares the shit out of him and immediately douses his lust fueled imaginings. Mischievous green eyes peer at him through the window and he pushes the door open, unfolding himself until he’s standing in front of T.K. Strand. 

“Hi,” he says, aware that he has a very stupid smile on his face.

“Hi,” T.K. says. “You looked like you were pretty deep in thought in there.”

His face flames. “Just um, thinking.” He blows out a breath and takes in the cute little patterned button down T.K. is wearing. “You look great.”

He smells incredible too, like he’s just been in the shower. There’s a silver chain glinting around his neck in the lights of the parking lot and Carlos longs to find out where it disappears to underneath his shirt. 

Fuck. He has got to get control of himself.

“You look nice too,” T.K. says, biting his lip.

Carlos wonders if he’s having similarly lusty thoughts. He hopes so. “Is this really happening?” Carlos asks. “There’s no injuries or work things getting in the way this time?”

“Not a thing,” T.K. says, taking a step closer. “Just you and me. On a date. For real.” He taps a finger against Carlos’ chest. “Lead the way officer.”

Carlos holds out a hand and when T.K. takes it he feels like his heart might explode. 

They step inside the honky-tonk to a whirl of sound and color. The place is already jumping, busy on a Friday night, and Carlos has half a second of doubt. Maybe they should have gone somewhere quieter. But one look at T.K.’s face, his eyes bright with excitement, tells him this was a good choice. T.K. Strand is clearly here for a good time. 

“Do you want something to drink?” Carlos asks as they head toward the bar. “Club soda?”

“Shirley Temple?” T.K.’s eyes twinkle. “I’m feeling festive.”

Carlos laughs. “Shirley Temple it is. Do you want to try and find us a table?”

“On it.” He disappears into the crowd as Carlos maneuvers himself to the bar. 

It takes forever to get the drinks and the bartender gives him a weird look when he orders the Shirley Temple. It makes him wonder if that was T.K.’s strategy all along: to make him feel awkward in front of a stranger as a cute little joke. It feels like something he might do. He’s for sure a tease.

He finally grabs hold of both their drinks, then searches the crowd for T.K., spotting him standing next to a table across the room. He carefully slips through the crowd, struggling to keep the drinks level. “Hey,” he says when he gets close. “Did you find us a spot?”

T.K. turns around an odd expression on his face. “I’m so sorry,” he says.

Carlos’ heart plummets and cold sweat breaks out on the back of his neck. Is T.K. chickening out? Did he not want to come here in the first place? He’d seemed so happy on their way in, what could have—

“I didn’t know they’d be here,” T.K. says, shifting to the side and revealing a table full of people.

Carlos catches sight of a face he knows. “Oh, Paul, right?” he says.

“Yeah, hey Carlos. Good to see you again,” Paul says.

“Carlos, this is my team,” T.K. says. “Meet the 126.”

He introduces them and Carlos gets to put faces to the names he’s learned over the last month and a half. Mateo, Marjan, and Judd all smile and wave casually, but there’s an oddly eager energy to the group that makes Carlos wonder exactly how much T.K. has told them about what’s going on between the two of them. 

“Well here, grab a seat,” Judd says as they all scoot around to make room in the booth they’ve claimed.

T.K. looks at him and turns his back on the group so they can’t hear. “We don’t have to sit with them.”

Carlos smiles. “It’s fine. Really,” he insists when T.K. doesn’t look convinced. “They’re your friends. And it’s pretty full in here anyway.”

The booth is already crowded and they have to sit very close together to fit. T.K.’s thigh presses into Carlos’ and he has to work very hard to keep his mind on track and in the moment. “Soooo,” Mateo says, wiggling his eyebrows, “is this finally the big date?”

Marjan smacks him. “Shut up probie!”

“What?” he asks, offended. “It is right? T.K.’s been talking about it for weeks.”

Carlos feels a laugh bubble up deep inside him and has to swallow it back down. T.K. may not have been raised with any siblings, but it’s obvious that his teammates are enthusiastically fulfilling that role in his life. 

“I haven’t been talking about it for weeks,” T.K. says, taking a sip of his drink, his cheeks a touch pink despite the calmness of his tone.

“Yes you have,” Judd says immediately.

“I have not!”

“You really have,” Paul says. 

T.K. glares at them. “I hate all of you.”

“Mmm be careful,” Marjan says, her eyes lighting with teasing. “We’ve got a lot of dirt on you T.K. So many things Carlos could learn tonight…”

“Like the time he backed the engine into the side of the garage,” Mateo says.

“Or the time he swore he could run around the entire building in under a minute, tripped over his own two feet, and fell face first into the asphalt,” Judd says.

“Or,” Paul says, “the time—“

“Okay, that’s enough!” T.K. declares. He pushes against Carlos, trying to make him slide back out of the booth. “Let’s go, we’re leaving.”

“No, no come on!” The protests from the group are genuine and full of laughter and T.K. settles back into his seat.

“You’re all just jealous that I have a date and none of you do,” T.K. says, affecting a superior tone.

“Hey I got a permanent date,” Judd says. “She’s just working tonight.”

“Judd’s wife Grace is a 911 dispatcher,” T.K. explains. 

“Nice,” Carlos says. “That’s a tough job.”

“She was made for it,” Judd says proudly. 

T.K.’s friends are great. They laugh and joke and talk with ease, including him in the conversation like he’s always been part of the group. Judd buys another round for the table and then they get some appetizers to share. It’s not exactly the date Carlos had in mind, but it’s good nonetheless.

T.K. is snarky and fun; everything he does is charming and adorable. If Carlos wasn’t already completely besotted, he definitely is now.

It’s ridiculous how comfortable it all feels. Like this is the most normal thing in the world. Like they’ve done it a thousand times instead of just one. 

A little voice in his mind whispers that this is all he’s ever wanted. To feel like this. He’s craved this type of casual intimacy in his life and it’s surreal to finally be experiencing it.

“Oh my god, I love this song!” Marjan says, shoving Paul so she can get out of the booth. “Come on! Let’s go dance!”

The rest of the group follows her, leaving T.K. and Carlos alone. “I really am sorry,” T.K. says. “If I’d known they were going to be here I would have—“

“T.K. it’s fine,” Carlos soothes, placing a hand on T.K.’s knee under the table and squeezing gently. “I picked the place. And they’re nice. I’m having a good time.”

He moves his thumb back and forth over the fabric of T.K.’s jeans without even thinking about it and something in T.K.’s eyes lights up. “Wanna dance?”

He looks T.K. up and down, his face twisting into a delighted smile. “Yeah.”

They stand and T.K. grabs his hand, pulling him toward the dance floor where dozens of other people are starting up a rowdy two-step country dance. “Do you know how to do this?” Carlos asks as they join the throng.

“Not a clue.” T.K. sticks his tongue out and wiggles his eyebrows comically, making Carlos laugh. 

“Copy me,” Carlos tells him, turning around so T.K.’s behind him and can follow his moves.

He’s actually not half bad. He’s not exactly half great either, but he bops along easily enough, at least from what Carlos can tell every time he turns around and catches a glimpse of him. It’s a little graceless, T.K. is all bouncy fun, like a puppy, but it’s pretty cute and he doesn’t run into anyone or step on any toes. 

The next dance requires a partner, so Carlos turns around to face T.K. and watches in amusement as T.K. does the required shimmy to one side and then the other. “Not bad for a New Yorker,” he calls over the noise of the crowd and the music.

“Hey, I’ll have you know that I was the life of the party at every bat and bar mitzvah I ever went to,” T.K. says.

“I believe it.”

He leans close, his breath warm on the side of Carlos’ neck. “But you know, the real reason I wanted to come out here was to watch your ass move around in those jeans.”

Desire, hot and strong pours through him. It must show on his face because T.K. cocks his head to the side, his eyes dropping to Carlos’ lips like he’s having the same kind of feelings.

“And? What’s the verdict?” Carlos asks, feeling a little light headed. All the blood in his head is quickly rushing somewhere else.

“I think…” T.K. meets his eyes and purses his lips in exaggerated, fake thought. “It’s a pretty spectacular ass.”

The room is crowded, there are people bumping up against them, but Carlos is so intensely focused on T.K. he barely notices. This feeling, this want, this ache of desire has been building for so many weeks and if he doesn’t do something about it soon, he might explode.

As if T.K. senses this he reaches for Carlos’ hand and begins pulling him through the crowd. God help him, Carlos doesn’t have the strength to stop him and the next thing he knows they’re moving down the small, dark hallway that leads to the bathroom. It’s obvious what’s going to happen next and Carlos is weak as fuck because he’s going to let it. 

T.K. shoves the door open, thank god it’s an individual bathroom and no one is inside. Carlos flips the lock and the second he turns around T.K. is on him, hands grabbing his hips for leverage as he crushes their mouths together. 

Carlos sees fireworks. They explode throughout his body wherever T.K. touches him, fizzing and popping and taking his breath away. His own hands come up, one of them cradling the back of T.K.’s neck, pulling him closer, while the other clings onto his bicep for support just in case his knees go weak from lack of oxygen. 

T.K. opens his mouth and Carlos doesn’t hesitate to deepen the kiss, sighing into it as their tongues slide together, hot and wet and so much better than Carlos has imagined in his shower fantasies. T.K. tastes sweet from his drink, cherries and sugar, and it only makes Carlos even more desperate to drink him in.

He reaches for the top button on T.K.’s shirt, needing to touch him, needing to feel the softness of his skin underneath his fingers. He manages five of them in record time, an amazing feat considering he’s only going by feel since he can’t stop kissing T.K. long enough to look. He shoves a hand inside the fabric to wrap around T.K.’s ribcage and pull him even closer.

T.K. huffs a laugh into his mouth and Carlos grins into it their kiss. This is crazy. He’s never felt so reckless. So free. He loves it. It’s like T.K. has unlocked a part of himself he didn’t even realize he’d hidden away.

He pulls back, barely taking a breath before nipping at T.K.’s earlobe and then scraping his teeth down his neck. T.K. makes a sound that goes straight to Carlos’ dick and then ruts his hips forward into Carlos, causing more stars to explode behind Carlos’ eyelids. 

His hand fists into the back of Carlos’ shirt, pulling it tight and Carlos takes that as his cue to keep going, following the line of T.K.’s collarbone with his tongue, pressing a kiss into the hollow at the base of his throat. 

His plan is to continue working his way across T.K.’s chest, but T.K. has other ideas, grabbing his face and hauling him back up into another bruising kiss before his hands find Carlos’ belt. The second he gets it undone he starts to drop to his knees, but Carlos grabs his arm, keeping him upright.

“The floor is filthy,” Carlos says.

T.K. looks at him like he’s crazy. “I have done this in much dirtier places Carlos,” he says, trying to go down again.

The thought makes Carlos sick to his stomach and he grips T.K.’s arm more firmly, refusing to let him move. “But you don’t have to,” he says gently, but firmly. 

He knows T.K.’s past. He knows how he’s been used and treated like garbage, and he is never, ever going to treat him that way. T.K. doesn’t exist for Carlos’ pleasure. They’re not starting their relationship this way. Making out is one thing. Forcing T.K. to his knees on a disgusting bathroom floor is another.

T.K. takes a step back looking hurt and confused. “Are you saying you don’t want—“

“No, I definitely do,” Carlos says quickly. “I just…not here. I don’t know if other guys made you feel like that’s all you were good enough for but you deserve better than a dirty bathroom floor T.K.

The guarded look in T.K.’s eyes goes soft and his body relaxes again. “You’re really sweet. You know that?”

Carlos blushes. Which is crazy since this man just had his tongue in his mouth and was about to put it somewhere else much more intimate. “I want this to be a partnership,” he says. “I’m not using you T.K. I want you.”

T.K. crowds up against him and kisses him again, gently this time, his fingers cradling Carlos’ face. “You’re one a million Carlos Reyes,” he says when he pulls back. His smile turns mischievous. “Fine. I won’t kneel on the dirty floor.”

“Good,” Carlos says. “I don’t need you to.”

“But,” T.K. says, his hands sliding down Carlo’s chest, “there are plenty of other things I can do just fine standing up.”

Before Carlos can protest T.K. has undone the button and zipper on his jeans, his hand teasing along waistband of Carlos’ boxer briefs before sliding inside. Carlos’ head slams back against the door, a sound ripping from his throat that he’s never made before in his entire life. All thoughts of germs or bathroom floors or anything other than the feel of T.K. taking hold of him are immediately driven from his mind.

He’s brought back to reality all too soon by a series of sharp knocks on the door just behind his head. 

T.K. withdraws his hand. “Be out in a minute,” he calls, then bites his lip, studying Carlos’ face. “Well that was fun.”

Carlos swallows, trying to find his voice again as T.K. turns and heads for the sink. “Uh huh,” is all he manages to get out.

T.K. chuckles. “I’ll take it that’s a five star rating?”

“Yes. Definitely,” he says, finally regaining enough presence of mind to start zipping up his jeans as T.K. redoes his own shirt buttons.

The knocks sound again, more insistent this time. “We should um…do you want to get out of here?” Carlos asks, his brain soaked in lust fueled dopamine. He’s not nearly done with what they’ve started.

“Eh, I don’t know. It’s kind of nice in here,” T.K. jokes, looking around.

“T.K. Do you want to come back to my place?” Carlos says, too far gone to play games right now.

T.K. kisses him, chastely this time. “Yes,” he says. “I do.”

He opens the bathroom door and Carlos tries not to make eye contact with the person who was waiting outside. They’ve nearly made it down the hallway when they bump into Paul. “I was wondering where y’all went,” he says.

“Just taking a little break,” T.K. says easily, while Carlos squirms internally.

Paul’s eyes travel over the two of them, a knowing smirk growing on his face. “Your buttons are done up wrong,” he says, nodding toward T.K.’s shirt.

“Are they?” T.K. glances down, but doesn’t fix them. “Huh. Wonder how that happened?”

“Mmm, I could hazard a guess,” Paul says.

Carlos’ face is on fire and he tries desperately not to fidget. He has no idea how T.K. can act so calm and innocent. Even in in the dim light of the hallway he knows everything about them screams ‘bathroom hookup.’ 

“So Carlos and I are going to head out,” T.K. says, still nonchalant. 

“Oh are you? Do you need a ride home or anything?” Paul asks, still playing the game T.K. is crafting.

“I think we’ve got it covered,” T.K. tells him.

“Uh huh, I’m sure you do. Nice seeing you again Carlos,” he says.

“It was nice to see you too,” Carlos manages, his voice sounding a little strained in his own ears.

“Don’t get into too much trouble!” Paul calls after them, amusement coloring his voice.

“Well that was embarrassing,” Carlos says when they finally make it outside. 

“Paul won’t say anything,” T.K. says. “Not to anyone else. He’ll tease me about it forever. But I don’t care. It was worth it.”

“Was it?” Carlos asks as they reach the Camaro.

T.K.’s eyes are bright even in the darkened parking lot. “Definitely.”

[dykecubes]

Sorry I’m gonna be slightly /neg about the egg “event” again so if you’re gonna get mad at me for that again just block me or scroll past

I’m still very much of the opinion that the eggs should’ve stayed as a short-term Easter-themed event since it was clear that was what they were intended to be: a short-term event to encourage communication and teamwork across languages, people gave me shit a while ago for saying that it felt like the egg “event” has gone on for much much longer than originally planned but I think it’s obvious that’s what happened here, I think it was clearly originally intended to only last a few months at best with the parents with the last egg standing winning, and I think they didn’t expect as many eggs to survive as long as they did, I think this is obvious in the way that the lore surrounding the eggs kept being retconned, the way the rules surrounding them kept being changed, and the way admins had to scramble (pun not intended) for an excuse as to why they inexplicably found new eggs every time new players showed up to the point where they seemingly gave up justifying it almost entirely with newer additions

The egg event was never going to be sustainable in the long-term like this and it really shouldn’t have gone on for this long, the admins behind them were working well over 40 hours a week every week due to the high demands for egg care, the hours themselves being very sporadic and requiring them to keep up with streamers’ schedules, getting in the way of school or other work, this not even mentioning the fact that they were being mistreated and underpaid behind the scenes and often did other admin work aside from the egg jobs, maybe for a couple of weeks or months in the summer it could’ve worked, but for over a year? It’s just unsustainable and it’s honestly commendable that it got this far

Aside from this, I feel like there’s something to be said about how over time the qsmp very obviously changed a lot, with the focus being less on the exchange of languages and cultures and more on the heavy lore that’s become omnipresent and almost mandatory for players, making the server very inaccessible for new players and fans alike when the very structure and mission statement of the server should require it to be accessible for all, truly some of the most memorable days on the server to me are the early ones, when people made an effort to communicate with and understand one another despite their differences in languages, or the cultural events, like Festa Junina

The eggs becoming a staple of the server as their intended purpose slowly drifted away from encouraging community and teamwork between cultures and towards vehicles for major lore resulted in them becoming almost a detriment to the server’s mission statement, now without them around the server is almost unable to function

This isn’t to say I’m not grateful for all their admins’ hard work over their time on the server or everything they put into their characters, quite the opposite actually, but at the rate it was going it was inevitable that it ended this way

On my other post someone had pointed out that they wish after a certain point the eggs would’ve just hatched and become cute dragon NPCs, no longer bound by the two-life system and no longer requiring parental care, making it easier for the admins to come and go as they please without the pressure to stay with the streamer all stream and honestly? That would’ve been the best possible ending in my opinion, had, after a couple of months of reaching some benchmark requirements for egg care, the eggs hatched into little dragons it probably would’ve been a better solution for everyone, instead the egg lore just kept going and going and going until it exhausted both itself and everyone involved

It’s just sad and frustrating to me to see a server that I really believed in and wanted to succeed repeatedly make such poor decisions because, really, had the egg lore gone differently, had they at least informed the members on what purgatory was and made it optional instead of mandatory, had they not forced everyone to abandon their projects and start over from scratch, had they not overworked and underpaid their admins the qsmp could’ve lasted far longer than most other mainstream servers today

[midwestmade29]

‼️UPDATED 10/7/23 🙂‼️

🔥PART 1🔥

Well, a *slight* change in plans about my spicy little number I wrote. I'm still needing to edit a few parts towards the end of it, and I'll take care of that as soon as I can. BUT the good news is I can share what I do have ready! Please keep in mind that I am not a professional writer and that I am in no way perfect. Be kind and gentle with me as I dive in head first…

*Constructive criticism and advice is always welcome! Please let me know if there’s something I should add to the following disclaimers (to make my post more informative or reader friendly) or about anything else that comes to mind*

If you are not at least 18 years old or older, I implore you to keep scrolling.

There is sexual content so it is NSFW or minors.

It is written from the POV of a female and has dialogue between her and Christian Cage.

Dirty talk, oral sex (male receiving), sexual intercourse, dominant male, unprotected sex.

Word count for Part 1: 965

“They say all good boys go to Heaven, but bad boys bring Heaven to you…”

I peeled myself off the couch and made my way to the kitchen for a glass of water before heading upstairs to get ready for bed. Christian still wasn’t home yet from his late-night workout that some of the AEW guys had invited him to join last minute. I tried my best to stay up to see him, but my eyelids felt so heavy. We both knew today was going to be a busy day for each of us and I hated not being able to see him, but I just couldn’t stay up any longer. We were able to talk sporadically throughout the day and FaceTimed each other when there was a free moment during the afternoon. The sound of his sexy voice and the sight of his bright smile always lit me up inside.

I made it to our bedroom and flipped on the light switch. I undressed myself down to my panties and grabbed one of Christian’s wrestling shirts out of the dresser, pulled it down over my head and let it slide down my body before resting on my thighs. Once my teeth were brushed, I grabbed my phone off the nightstand to check the time, and 10:48pm lit up on the screen. I set my alarm and started to clear notifications when suddenly I felt a pair of strong, muscular arms wrap around me from behind.

I jumped from being startled but relaxed instantly when I inhaled a familiar scent. “Hey baby.” Christian spoke softly. I lifted my arm up and placed it behind his neck, brushing my fingers through the base of his hairline, causing Christian to groan in approval. Our bodies were flush against one another as we reveled in our embrace. Christian nuzzled his face into my neck while his hands began roaming over my midsection. “Mmm, I missed you today. I'm sorry I'm home so late, I hate it when our schedules clash like this. My shirt looks good on you by the way…”

The back of my head rested on his chest as Christian’s hands were toying with the bottom hem of my shirt, occasionally slipping a finger or two beneath the top of my panty line, tracing along the lace. Goosebumps spread across my skin like wildfire, letting Christian know how easily and quickly my body was responding to him. He released me from his arms, and I turned around. His hand instantly gripped my jaw and held my head in place. He tilted my head up so we made eye contact, and I could see the lust blazing in his beautiful blue eyes. His gaze was intense, so I tried to turn my head, but that only caused him to grip my jaw more firmly. A whimper escaped my lips and a cheeky smile spread across Christian’s face. He had me right where he wanted me. With his free arm, he wrapped it around my waist and pulled me closer, so our bodies were flush once again. I could feel his arousal through his sweats pressing against my core and fuck did it feel good. “I’ve been thinking about those pretty pink lips of yours all day and that sweet little mouth wrapped around my cock.”

My eyes widened and my cheeks were on fire from his boldness as he continued. “Are you going to be my good girl tonight? Let me fuck you however I please? I want to hear you scream my name as I pound your tight pussy into the mattress.” I swallowed hard but nodded “yes.” Suddenly I was no longer tired but felt so hungry. Hungry for something other than food to satisfy my appetite. I wanted whatever he was about to feed me.

Christian released my jaw and lifted me into his arms and took a few steps until my back hit the wall. He pinned me there with his hips, and my legs wrapped around his waist, causing me to gasp at the pressure of his hard length against my panties. Our lips crashed against each other, and it was game on from there. Christian parted my lips with his tongue, and I happily granted him access. My hands tugged his hair causing him to curse under his breath. I took his bottom lip in-between my teeth and bit down, just hard enough to feel his cock twitch against me. His trail of kisses left a path of fire in their wake as he bit, sucked, licked, and kissed his way around my jawline to the nape of my neck. The roughness of his beard against my soft skin created the most delicious sensation that was driving me wild. I couldn’t help but moan as my core began to ache for this man. I was beyond ready to give him whatever the fuck he wanted.

“Christian…please…” I begged softly. My plea caused him to pull himself back from me, allowing me to slide down the wall until my feet touched the floor. Still keeping me pinned in place, he lowered his head and looked deeply into my darkened eyes . “What is it baby? What do you want?” he whispered seductively. My breathing started to accelerate, and my brain scrambled to find the right words to say. He knew exactly what I wanted, but he was enjoying making me squirm. “Say it baby. I need to hear you say how much you want my hard cock in your wet pussy.” My tongue glided over my bottom lip at the thought of Christian thrusting himself inside of me. Somehow the wires in my brain finally connected and I was able to tell him what he wanted to hear. “I want you. Every single inch. Please, fuck me Christian. I need you inside of me.” He let out a growl from deep down inside of him. “That’s what I thought.”

(To be continued...)

[puppypeter]

(Omega!Roy / Alpha!Jamie)

Aww, I'm sorry to hear about your shitty day :(( but I'm so glad my ask was a little bright spot for you!! Your responses absolutely improve my day sm too!! ✨💖💖✨

And once again, your Grandad takes are PURE PERFECTION!!! My thought for why Roy's grandad would go along with his parents plan to send him to Sunderland was a) Roy DOES love football and he IS a prodigy, and on paper it is a remarkable opportunity, and b) because of how soon grandad died after Roy left for Sunderland, I think he knew his time was almoat up. While he might not have been 'sick', he was certainly getting too old to offer the care and attention Roy needed, at least in Roy's grandad's mind. Which is why Roy initially billeting with a friend of his grandad is a stroke of genius!!! And makes the angst SOOOO much worse when Roy loses his granddad's last attempt to shelter him.

Perhaps the woman Roy was staying with was also old like Roy's grandad and had been fostering/billeting academy kids for YEARS, and since she was also pretty advanced in age, maybe her kids convince her to spend the few years she has left with her family/kids/grandkids. Maybe this decision happens after Roy's caregiver has a stroke or something and she's deemed unfit to host a child. Add to that Roy's disciplinary issues and you have a perfect storm that leads to Roy been sent to a much stricter billet.

And OH MY GOSH I didn't even properly CONSIDER the embarrassment and panic and shame Roy's presentation would bring him sexually: he has to hide his presentation anyway, but even if he COULD talk about it, who could he confide in about these strange, overwhelming new feelings/body changes?? That's a hard topic to approach even with your actual PARENTS, let alone near total strangers who only really care about how well you can play footie. (On a happier, smuttier note, this opens the door for 'Virgin'!Roy and veeeeryyyy experienced!Jamie who plans on absolutely rocking Roy's world.)

And omg YESSSSS!!!! ABO BEAUTY STANDARDS!!!!! (Maybe there's a future fic where Roy dresses up for Jamie!! While waiting to suprise him once he gets home, Roy starts feeling silly and insecure, only to have Jamie arrive and instantly flood the house so full of his aroused alpha pheromones that they quickly overpower the smell of Omega distress - and dissuade all of Roys nerves).

And YES to the grandpa diaries!!!!! I totally agree that it would be a full-circle moment for Roy. It would be SO reaffirming for Roy - who at this point is becoming more secure within his omega status, but is still plagued by self-doubt/feelings of inadequacy - to KNOW that his grandad always knew exactly who he was, and saw this core strength and goodness in him, and it was all these good things that made him suspect that Roy was an omega, when everyone else saw him as someone else,,, I'm emotional just thinking about it!!

And I agree, I ADORE the gorgeous angsty potential of trying to help someone through pain that you essentially can't do much to stop. Which is why I think Roy's heat post-locker room fight should be a shock heat brought on by an influx of pheromones/hormones. (This also gives the added angst potential of Jamie blaming himself for his Alpha posturing being the reason Roy's in pain, which is why he was so eager to help, despite their current tense relationship).

And after Jamie helps Roy ride out the pain of his first heat (cuddles/scenting/nesting/comfort only), he'd accompany Roy to a doctor because he KNOWS pain like that isn't normal, which leads to Roy being instructed to wean off his suppressants IMMEDIATELY because they're reacting badly with his new knee medication. This means Roy will be going into sporadic heats as the suppressants flush out his system, varying in intensity. The doctor HIGHLY recommends a heat partner to help him through it, and since him and Roy are already semi-bonded from Roy's shock heat, Jamie volunteers. And since Roy wants as few other people knowing about his situation as possible (meaning a heat partner service from a third party isn't an option), he reluctantly accepts. And, well, the story really writes itself from there, huh? The sexual tension between these two living under the same roof would be INSANEEEEE!!!

And omg I haven't even considered Jamie's ruts!!! I totally picture Jamie going into rut later on in his and Roys 'agreement', at a point where they're definitely VERY physically involved, but still have that little bit of emotional distance between them. Roy helping Jamie through his ruts, returning all the attentiveness that Jamie has shown him, letting Jamie 'use' his body (something Roy of the past would have seen as utterly degrading), would be a HUGE show of trust on Roy's part, and would probably be their first big step in terms of establishing their relationship not as something done for pure convenience, but as something MORE,,,

(other yet to be explored kinky shenanigans: breeding kink. If that's not your cup of tea, no worries! But I KNOW that Roy, older omega who abused suppressants literally since his presentation and whose 'biological clock' is technically past his prime anyway, would be absolutely DUMBFOUNDED by the dirty talk this young, virile alpha subjects him to, who seems FIXATED on 'pupping Roy up', 'breeding him RIGHT'. I imagine Roy would be both mortified and incredibly turned on by his partner's very serious attempts at defying biology lmao).

Thanks again for your wonderfully creative and thoughtful responses, they really mean so much to me and I'm so touched by all the effort you put into your replies!! 💖💖💖✨✨✨

Finally I am free (for the weekend lol)!! Been thinking of this ask and these two the whole day ✨✨✨

I love your take on grandad, he knew that while it would hurt both of them to be away it would hurt more for roy to be there witnessing him passing away. He probably also thought maybe he had changed things a tiny bit and he expected roy (that he was pretty sure to be an omega) and his amazing talent to help push forward for omegas being on football teams. Like he knew roy would face some adversity but hoped him being so good would allow him a place.

I think roy being unable to be well behaved at the omega woman host might perhaps play in his brain awhile after he presents, making him think he was already such a bad omega for not being able to always be well behaved and polite to someone that was opening up their home to him.

He would indeed be very closed off emotionally and not really talking about stuff with anyone, including the "embarrassing" things. And hey, I don't mind virgin roy!! Idk whether I can see Jamie being that experienced tbh, maybe his puppiness made him popular with non-traditional omega ladies who enjoy a well behaved/considerate alpha (pretty much s. 1 jamiekeeley with keeley putting him on his knees lol he is very devoted to his partners' pleasure too)

I adore (and ache) for the idea of roy dressing up and then feeling insecure about it. Jamie would like stop and stare unable to speak which makes roy even more distressed, and then suddenly jamie starts whining in almost a painful way and is completely unable to form a sentence that makes sense cause all the blood went to his dick, so it's just his aroused smell and his begging of please let me have you that convey the message.

(won't go into the diaries much but honestly that would be such a nice thing with normal roy too, to just find something of his grandpa knowing he loved him >> maybe he only washes blankie with the same lavender soap his grandad used so it smells the same!! 🥺🥺🥺)

I love the idea of Jamie feeling bad and trying to help with cuddles and scenting (god i love scenting!!) and nesting!! Ugh an alpha that knows how to nest is perfection, he 100% learned that from Simon. And roy keeps saying that pain is normal and he's used to it and jamie dragging him to the doc who assumes jamie is his partner and talks a lot about what they should do while they're both dying of embarrassment. And they go back to the car and it's all awkward, and roy of course thinks jamie would never want him like that and only cuddled him out of pity. But jamie is all like happy to help if you'd like me to? (something something fanboy jamie heart eyes roy is so special to him etc)

Would love to see them staying over at roy's but also showing up to work together and leaving together and what the team thinks of that.

(Also we've done all this with s.1 rj and i haven't fully thought trough the option of what if it were jamie joining richmond when roy is already a coach...)

(nothing to worry about re that breeding kink 😌😌😌 but somehow i pictured that as jamie trying to dirty talk that way and them ending up just lovingly bickering in bed because "what the fuck are you trying to do? you're the fucking puppy in this relationship jamie" and jamie'd be like "how do you think a dog makes more puppies mate? it don't stop me being a pup if i wanna fill you up with my own" > roy reminding him he can't get pregnant (whether bc it's not a thing in this universe for male omegas or he's past the age of or the suppressant took his ability to) > jamie insisting it's the thought that counts lmao

Something else to explore would probably also be jamie letting roy be in charge, cause at the end of the day it's about devoting himself to his omega so it's all about roy's wants/needs/desires